


bloody but unbowed

by wrennette



Series: family is more than blood [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blanket Permission, F/F, M/M, Multi, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 72,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23721898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: "Agent Kallus, why do I get the idea this is somehowyourfault?""Because you have the skill, talent, and drive to become very good at this."In the Imperial Academy, Sabine destroys the Duchess, is put on probation, and somehow ends up the protege of Alexsandr Kallus. She didn’t mean to join the Rebellion. But she couldn’t let her brother-by-bond undertake the mantle of Fulcrum alone. Everything after that - toppling the Empire, rebuilding Manda’yaim, and leading the lost clans home - that was all in a day’s work once she got started.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus & Sabine Wren, Alexsandr Kallus/Fenn Rau, Boil & Numa & Waxer (Star Wars), Fenn Rau & Sabine Wren, Numa/Sabine Wren, Sabine Wren & Ursa Wren
Series: family is more than blood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824016
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46
Collections: Star Wars Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> big thanks to my beta and artist and the organizers! any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Title from [Invictus](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51642/invictus) by William Ernest Henley.
>
>> Out of the night that covers me,  
> Black as the pit from pole to pole,  
> I thank whatever gods may be  
> For my unconquerable soul.
>> 
>> In the fell clutch of circumstance  
> I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
> Under the bludgeonings of chance  
> My head is bloody, but unbowed.
>> 
>> Beyond this place of wrath and tears  
> Looms but the Horror of the shade,  
> And yet the menace of the years  
> Finds and shall find me unafraid.
>> 
>> It matters not how strait the gate,  
> How charged with punishments the scroll,  
> I am the master of my fate,  
> I am the captain of my soul.
> 
> I came out of Rebels wanting (among other things) Sabine and Kallus to be bros who collaborate on escaping from the Empire. I also think Kallus could be an excellent Mando, and is in desperate need of a family. So here I am writing the story I want to see in the world. I started this before The Mandalorian or the seventh season of TCW came out. I’ve gone back to work in some things that I liked, but this is very much an AU, so the timeline is not canon-accurate, Sabine is older by an unspecified amount at the start, and things I don't vibe with have been tossed into the fires of Mustafar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is Mando'a throughout this fic. Translations are via [mandoa.org](https://mandoa.org/) and available inline via hovertext (hold your cursor over the Mando'a, a floating box will appear with the translation), and in the end of chapter notes. Sometimes if a word is used frequently, hovertext isn't utilized every time. If a word has multiple meanings, only the relevant one will be in the hovertext, and the larger definition will be in the end of chapter notes.

Sabine gnawed her lower lip, finger hovering over the icon on the screen of the terminal. If she did this - no. She took a deep, steadying breath. She _had_ to do this. _If_ was no longer an option. 

Her entire time in the academy, Sabine had been trying to find a balance between being a loyal Mando’ad and a loyal Imperial. This - this was not the action of a loyal Imperial. But to allow this creation of hers to advance from design to prototype - no. Better to risk it all. Sabine tapped the icon, and the virus activated. It would ping through the other cadets’ data before getting down to business, disguising its point of origin, then deleting the data on their projects. All of their projects, including her own.

By morning, the virus would erase all traces of her ill-conceived weapon, then itself, save a little kernel that would - if it worked as planned - find a backdoor into the Imperial holonet, where it would seek out and destroy data associated with this particular academy. Sabine was certain that if the long trail of reroutes worked as she intended, it would be untraceable. And she was pretty sure it would work as intended. While she’d never excelled in the classes on slicing and datawork as she did in design, she was good at it. For this to truly work, her average skill level was absolutely necessary to disguise her involvement. She was skilled enough to figure out, through long, hard, work how to create this destroyer of data. But not so skilled as to make her an obvious suspect.

With a slight smile, Sabine straightened. She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, then glanced at the chrono. It wouldn’t be too out of character for her to visit the gym, she decided, and was soon changing into training gear. After a few rounds with the droids, Sabine felt more comfortable in her skin. For better or worse, the second phase of her project to protect her people from the Empire was complete. Now she just had to finish the ongoing first part: ensuring the Empire continually underestimated her so she could move through the system with impunity. Defying the Empire would only draw unwanted attention. Better to quietly bow her neck under their yoke, and learn what she could, growing stronger until the time was right to strike.

It helped that while surreptitiously learning the slicing skills necessary to create the worm, her grades had dropped and her temper had been worse than usual, laying the groundwork for her to slip from her place at the top of the academic lists. Over the next few weeks, Sabine let her grades and attitude deteriorate further. She had a plethora of excuses when any of the instructors pulled her up; she was angry about her design being deleted, she was upset that the information wasn’t making sense to her the way it used to, she was aggravated by her poor performance. The only place where she didn’t disguise her talents were in the piloting sims and the gym. Fighting and flying, after all, were Mando skills too.

Not quite sure what to do with the once promising cadet, Sabine’s instructors assigned her to a semester long rota piloting officers between postings. _Just until you get your head together_ , the commandant of the academy said with a false smile. Sabine saluted and kept her back straight until she was alone in her room. There, she breathed a sigh or relief. She still didn't know quite what she wanted to do, and a semester of ferrying officials around would give her time to think.

Her friend Ketsu was more aggravated by the seeming demotion than Sabine herself was, although that also could have been due to Sabine distancing herself. Sabine couldn’t think of any other way to protect Ketsu from the fallout if things went wrong. She didn’t want to bring her friend trouble. Better to let Ketsu think they were growing apart, than let her get caught up in Sabine’s mess.

It would be easy enough for a pilot of Sabine’s skill to slip away. Sabine just wasn’t sure where she’d go - her family was loyal to the Empire, just as she was. Had been? They were loyal, and if Sabine did what she was beginning to think about - she couldn’t go home. While she didn’t think they’d turn her over, she didn’t want to put them into a position where their love for her and their duty to the Empire were at odds. Better to keep her head down, think it over a little longer.

Sabine tried not to think too hard about the idea of becoming an exile, separated from her people. Instead she read the dossier provided on her assigned crew and first passenger, went through the checks on the Lambda class shuttle she’d been assigned, and generally tried not to be noticed much. The other crewmembers were either Imperial Fleet cadets in need of flight hours for their qualifications, or newly graduated officers who hadn’t scored well enough - or been well connected enough - to get positions on larger ships. Sabine wasn’t sure quite how it would work - few if any of them really wanted their posting, but at the same time a six person crew was enough people for them all to be a bit paranoid that one of the others might be reporting to Imperial Security.

The first few runs were by the book. Sabine had just started to get a bit bored - a bit curious about whether she’d made the right decision - when they were assigned to pick up an ISB Agent transferring sectors. Evidently Mykapo had a rebel problem, and the local Minister had requested help from Imperial Center. Sabine estimated the Minister wouldn’t last much longer; she’d begun to notice patterns in that sort of thing. All the same, she kept her lip buttoned as Agent Kallus stepped on board. 

On the route out to Mykapo, Sabine was surprised to find Agent Kallus in the crew lounge with some regularity. Their previous passengers had usually stayed in the plush, if minimalist, staterooms appointed for their use. He read, most of the time, or poked at a datapad. Despite her determination to keep her head down, Sabine found herself conversing with Kallus more than once, surprisingly relaxed and interesting discussions of military tactics and galactic history. He seemed a bit lonesome, Sabine thought, although she could imagine quite a few reasons for an ISB agent to not have many friends. The whole crew was on their best behavior for the days the agent was aboard, and none of the others spoke to Kallus, highlighting his isolation from other members of the Imperial service. 

Despite her inclination to avoid the ISB agent, Sabine found herself enjoying Kallus’ company. He listened more than he spoke, but managed to make it seem like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say, and not just because he was angling for something to hold over her, either. It helped that he didn’t press her when she clearly didn't want to talk, and was content to just sit in silence in the lounge, each of them with their cup of caf. Kallus was downright decent for a fellow Imperial, Sabine decided when they dropped him off. She wasn’t even too surprised to find herself missing him a little when he was gone.

It _was_ rather a surprise to Sabine that when her semester-long rotation on the shuttle crew was complete, she was offered a place at the Royal Academy on Coruscant. The academy commandant on Mandalore told Sabine she must have made a good impression on someone to be accorded such an honour, especially just after she’d been on probation. When Sabine reviewed the invitation, she saw she would be tracked through the Security concentration if she accepted. A niggling suspicion formed in the back of her mind. 

Sabine requested a week to think over the offer, although she was already fairly certain she would accept. It would get her off Mandalore, and away from the people she cared about - away from the people who might be most endangered if her sabotage was brought to light. It would also give her a higher degree of training - better skills to protect herself and flee, if that became necessary. And the only person at the academy that she cared about was already gone anyway. Ketsu had disappeared while Sabine was away on her shuttle assignment, and no one would tell her what had happened. So Sabine thought about it, researched the possibilities, and with a day’s grace, accepted the offer.

The next year was beyond anything Sabine could have expected. She’d never really thought much about how ISB Agents were trained. Once she settled in and got into her assignments, she excelled in a way she never before had in anything but design. She’d been good at other things, and she’d worked hard. But seeing patterns, solving puzzles - those were things that appealed to her, that she enjoyed. It was almost easy to blow through the coursework at an accelerated pace. 

When Sabine received her field training assignment, that niggling in the back of her mind crystalized into full blown suspicion. She had been assigned to shadow ISB-021, Agent Alexsandr Kallus. She pulled up his dossier again. Reserved, ruthless, and a rising star in the ISB. A training officer with an excellent reputation, and one who evidently had an interest in her career. Sabine’s suspicions were confirmed when Kallus met her shuttle himself, instead of sending an underling. 

"Agent Wren," Kallus greeted as she stepped off the ramp, and she couldn’t quite suppress her smile. 

"Agent Kallus, why do I get the idea this is somehow _your_ fault?" 

"Because you have the skill, talent, and drive to become very good at this," Kallus replied, surprisingly sincere, and smiled - a small, tight, and yet honest expression he seemed out of practice at using. Her smirk shifted into a true smile, and Sabine decided - they were going to work very well together. 

Sabine quickly set about proving Kallus right - she was very good at investigating. It helped too, that their skill sets meshed well together, making them an excellent team. Kallus had the experience to see patterns and motives in their cases, while Sabine’s more creative thinking often opened avenues of investigation he wouldn’t have pursued, leading to more solid evidence, more damning convictions.

Even outside the stricter confines of their work, their skills were complementary. While they were both excellent fighters, Kallus had a mind for tactics combined with the build for mass damage and melee fighting, and the fierce inclinations to match. Sabine had the same spirit for close-in fighting, but with her speed and superb targeting, she was even better at sniping and support, especially as she didn’t have her beskar’gam with her. 

They both liked tech, and liked puzzles. Early on, Sabine subverted an MSE droid to fetch Kallus for her. A few days later, the same MSE droid nudged against her foot until she looked down, and when she inspected it, she found a packet of encrypted data that turned out to be a reminder from Kallus to meet him at the simulators to keep their piloting certifications up to date. It turned into an ongoing game between them, a way to test encryption protocols and their own skills at breaking and circumventing those protocols as they sent the MSE back and forth.

Sabine’s talents as a pilot outstripped Kallus’ by a clear margin, although he wasn’t unskilled. Shipboard, he was much more practiced at comms and sensors, easily following and masking signatures as needed. Sabine was still learning, she made beginners mistakes at times, but Kallus was patient with her, confident in the potential he’d seen in her as a disaffected cadet. That confidence in her garnered Sabine’s hardwon loyalty. Not many officers, in her experience, were willing to take a chance on someone with a record like hers, no matter that she’d sabotaged her career on purpose.

Even once Sabine was a fully accredited ISB agent, the higher ups saw no reason to separate her and Kallus - their numbers were clearly indicative of how well they worked together. Sabine found herself surprisingly glad of that decision. Over the past months training at his side, Kallus had become one of the few constants in her life, and she was beginning to think of him as more than a mentor and colleague - as a friend, a confidant. They’d even graduated to calling one another by their given names. 

It could have gone the other way - they were both stubborn, and if they'd irritated one another instead of seeing each other's better aspects, they likely would have driven each other mad. They were together nearly every waking hour. Friendship was the better outcome, when they saw one another first thing each ship's morning, worked together all day, ate together, and trained together in the gym. In the little break time they actually used for leisure instead of extra work, they played dejarik and pazaak together, and Sabine taught Alexsandr the Mando game of cu'bikad, which involved stabbing small blades into a chequered board.

Their friendship also meant that each of them actually had a friend aboard. As Sabine had suspected from their first meeting, being an ISB Agent was incredibly isolating. They had the authority to commandeer any ship they served aboard, which won them no friends among the Admiralty or captains. The regular Fleeters and troopers didn't warm to them either, seeing them only as ISB, as arms of the Empire that could make their lives miserable for the slightest infraction. 

Sabine tended to keep working even when she was technically off duty, and Alexsandr was the same. When they were off the clock, but still in the office, more casual conversation slipped in amongst their talk about their work. Innocuous things at first - if either of them spent any leisure time watching holodramas, they might have discussed their favourite shows, but Alexsandr tended to spend the rare times he wasn't working reading histories, and Sabine used her underutilized free time sketching, since she didn't have the supplies for larger pieces with her.

Alexsandr would tell her about the history of planets in the sector some nights - sometimes as much myth as actual fact. Sabine would pitch in with facts about the artistic movements that had come out of the area, or particular techniques the peoples had furthered. Sometimes, they even tentatively let their conversation dip into politics and philosophy, but both knew the danger in that, so it was done rarely.

When their leave periods lined up shortly after she received her credentials as a full ISB agent - and Sabine was well aware that Alexsandr would work through his furlough if left to his own devices - Sabine arranged to return to her family’s stronghold on Krownest, and cajoled Alexsandr into coming with her. He grumbled, but they were both well aware he could refuse if he really wanted to stay behind. Sabine couldn’t help but note how markedly Alexsandr softened as their ship streaked away from the cruiser that was their home and office, slowly relaxing and opening up to her on the shuttle ride to Mando space. 

"You should probably call me Sasha," Alexsandr sighed when they were on the final approach to the Wren compound. 

"Sasha," Sabine tested out aloud. Alexsandr - Sasha flushed slightly, then shrugged. Sabine very firmly restrained herself from telling him that he was utterly adorable. 

"Excellent," Sabine said instead. "I feel like I should warn you that every Mando I’ve ever met is just as stubborn as me, and we’ll be the only ones not in armour." Sasha chuckled at that, glancing over. 

"So you mean I’ll fit right in, except for my lack of armour?" Sasha asked, and Sabine shrugged, smiling. It was true that he was her match for stubbornness. Sasha smiled back, the expression still stiff and out of practice. She’d have to work on that, if she was to make a proper Mando out of him. 

Even as she thought it, Sabine mentally laughed at herself. Ancestors. She’d really gone and all but adopted the first half decent aruetii she found, the Mando adoption impulse at work. She debated internally for all of a moment, then accepted it. The Mando’ade had always had expansive and expanding views on family. If anyone had issues with her claiming Sasha as a brother, she was more than capable of changing their mind with her fists.

That night, Sabine was seated in the place of honour as the Wren clan welcomed their daughter home. Sasha was seated at her off hand, a more respectful placement than Sabine was truly expecting. She had told her parents only that Sasha was her mentor and co-worker, and hadn’t expected them to treat him as if he were family. By placing him there, they silently acknowledged that Sasha was someone important to her, her closest friend and companion, someone who could be trusted to guard her weak side. 

Sabine happily conversed with her parents and brother through the meal, keeping an eye on Sasha. She knew he wasn’t a big fan of unscripted social interaction. He seemed to be doing alright, other than poking a bit suspiciously at his food and getting lost whenever conversation slipped into Mando’a. He’d picked up a bit of the language - more than Sabine had expected - but he definitely wasn’t conversant. Sabine had a feeling that was likely to change during their time on Krownest.

In all, Sabine decided as she curled into her bed that night, it was a very nice homecoming. And maybe she would have a chance to look into where Ketsu disappeared to - she hadn’t wanted to look for her friend using the ISB terminals, didn’t want to bring unwarranted attention to Ketsu. But it still hurt that her friend had disappeared without a word. Sabine knew that she had been the one who damaged their friendship first. But to just leave, without a single message of parting? It worried her.

When she went down in the morning, Sabine was unsurprised to find Sasha in the kitchens, sipping at caf and eating a bowl of neral porridge. She brewed herself shig, as she enjoyed it more than caf and couldn’t get it reliably outside the Mandalorian Sector, then selected some of her own favourite morning foods - nuna eggs on toast and crispy bacon. 

"You know you can eat the good food too," Sabine said when she sat with her meal, glancing at Sasha’s sad bowl of boiled cereal. He hadn’t even added fruit to it, and she doubted he’d added honey or sweetener.

"Did you know last night was the first time I’ve had food other than governmental rations in - at least three years?" Sasha asked in reply, and from someone else, it would be a non sequitur. From Sasha - that was something like an admission. 

"Upset stomach?" Sabine guessed, and Sasha nodded, his mouth pulled tight. Sasha sat silent for a moment, and then his shoulders relaxed slightly. 

"I’m sure you’ve read my file," Sasha said with a slight, strained smile, and Sabine nodded. It had been a while, but she'd wanted to know who she was working with. Of course she'd read the parts of his file that she could access. "I grew up eating government surplus rations in the orphanage, it was all we had, then went immediately into military service. I - don’t process real food very well." 

Sabine took a closer look at him. Paler than usual, and a bit off colour even beyond that. He’d probably been up half the night heaving in the refresher. Mando food tended to be spicy and rich, not a good combination for someone unused to it, and Sasha had never been a strong eater to start with, despite his sturdy build. 

"The grain is called neral, and it’s generally pretty easy on the stomach," Sabine said. "Do you remember the last time you had meat?" Sasha grimaced and shook his head. "Okay, there’s usually some kind of vegetarian protein - soypro or something. Try to stick with that and veggies, and I’ll tell the droid to make sure there’s some blander dishes until you get more used to it."

"Thanks," Sasha said, and his shoulders sagged. Sabine reached out tentatively, laying her hand on his back. He tensed slightly, then relaxed again.

"You can thank me by finally teaching me to wield that bo-rifle of yours," Sabine said with a grin, and Sasha smiled slightly in reply. 

"Deal," Sasha agreed, and Sabine nodded. They finished eating quietly, and soon met back up in the training area of the compound. A few others were scattered about, maintaining their armour or sharpening their skills. Sabine, for the first time since going away to the academy, felt a bit out of place. She hadn’t worn properly fitted Mando armour in years. She would have to do something about that. Until then, she’d have to wear the training armour kept at hand.

Picking up a staff, Sabine stepped into one of the training rings. A few moments later, Sasha joined her. He was dressed in his usual training gear, but he’d stopped at the racks and picked up armour as well. Sabine grinned eagerly. Damn right she was going to do her best to knock him on his ass. 

"I’ve lowered the power so it should only sting a bit," Sasha called, shifting the weapon in his hands. It expanded, the ends crackling to life. Sabine had watched him train with the bo-rifle in staff configuration previously, but she’d never gone against him while he was wielding it. "I’ll try not to embarrass you too much in front of your family." 

Sabine laughed sharply, and then she was closing at speed, knowing her best bet was to get inside Sasha’s long reach. 

Sasha didn’t give any quarter. Sabine hadn’t expected him to. While they didn’t spar frequently - they tended to leave one another too banged up, and didn’t want their work to suffer - they were familiar with one another’s fighting styles. Sabine knew they would both be very sore very shortly, but until then, they both went all out. 

Sabine wasn’t terribly surprised when she ended up flat on her back after about three minutes, the crackling staff-end of the bo-rifle hovering over her vulnerable neck. She groaned softly, tapping out her surrender. Sasha rose and extended his hand, hauling Sabine to her feet. 

"One of these days," Sabine threatened.

"Keep telling yourself that little’n," Sasha teased. Sabine growled, and feinted left. Sasha whirled out of the way of her sloppy attack, and soon had her caught tight against him, the crackling bo-rifle restraining her against his broad chest. Both of them were breathing hard, and Sabine could see they’d attracted a bit of attention. She groaned. It would be a while before she lived down the fact that an offworlder could so easily handle her. She tapped out again, and Sasha was grinning when she stepped away. 

"Yeah yeah yeah, we’ll see how you do with a jetpack," Sabine snarked, still a bit annoyed.

"Is that an offer?" Sasha teased, whirling his staff, and her bad mood dissipated; she hadn’t seen him this happy and relaxed before. Ever. She cocked her head. 

"You know? It might be," Sabine acknowledged. 

While sparring was a physical conversation, flying - flying was freedom. She wanted that for Sasha. It went almost without question that there would be a jetpack around that he could use. The trick would be getting him into armour without anyone assuming things about their relationship that were patently untrue. She sighed. She knew he’d likely researched her people, but no holonet article could prepare an outsider for the intricacies of Mando social interactions.

"What is it?" Sasha asked softly, pulling off his helmet and going to the water station. Sabine walked with him, utilizing their closeness so they could have a semi-private conversation.

"People may take us sparring together, and us teaching one another combat techniques as flirting," Sabine warned quietly. 

"You’re not really my type," Sasha said with a slight smile.

"Oh, I know," Sabine said, because while he was discreet, his eyes tended to trail after the broad shoulders and narrow hips of other men. "You’re not mine either, but you’re the first person I’ve ever brought home to meet my family, and fighting is essentially flirting for a lot of Mando’ade. It’s a way to get to know someone better," Sabine explained. She was certain he’d noticed her eyeing some of the female officers a few times, and had guessed at her own preferences.

"So is everyone going to think we’re dating if we keep sparring together? Because that’s the best workout I’ve had in ages," Sasha teased. "I’d hate to give it up just because your family got the wrong idea about us."

"I mean - maybe, maybe not? As long as you don’t give me any weapons or armour they’ll mostly just speculate. Which is why I thought of it. To fully utilize a jetpack, you should really be in full armour, and while I wouldn’t be _giving_ it to you, even a loan in combination with our obvious closeness and sparring together," Sabine said, trailing off. 

"They’ll put together one and one and one and get a pairing off," Sasha said with an understanding nod. 

"It actually might not be such a bad idea," Sabine said thoughtfully. "I mean, I’m not eager to lie to my parents, but - well, they know as well as anyone that those of us in service are encouraged to pair off and procreate. I’m sure that if I don’t pick someone soon, my mother will start talking to the other mothers in her social circle to see who has sons around my age serving the Empire. She had started asking around when I left for the academy."

"Would that be a bad thing?" Sasha asked. "I mean - to have a partner? Wouldn’t you like to have someone?"

"I mean, yes, I’d eventually like to have a partner, kids, the whole deal, but she’d stick to Imperial criteria, and since men do nothing for me - yeah, that’s not going to work out. But if I let her think the two of us are involved -"

"She won’t start matchmaking."

"Exactly." 

"So who gets to give who a knife first?" Sasha asked, accepting the idea with a slightly sly expression, and Sabine grinned. 

"I think I better give you a gift first, otherwise it may look like you’re taking advantage of a junior officer," Sabine said, seriously thinking about what it would take to fake a relationship with Sasha. 

It wouldn’t be that hard in some ways - Sabine already trusted Sasha, and while she wasn’t attracted to him in the least, she could understand what might make him attractive to someone who was into human men. "Well, this gives us a good excuse to go to Keldabe then." Some might be skeptical due to the large gap in their ages, Sasha was more than a decade her senior after all, but men Sasha’s age were fairly notorious for chasing after younger women.

"On Manda’yaim?" Sasha asked, carefully sounding out the Mando’a name for the main planet of the Mandalore system and culture. Sabine grinned. He’d done pretty well for an outsider.

"Yup. I figure we can make a day of it, I’ve been wanting to go there and Sundari both. My best friend from the academy has disappeared, and those are the best places to quietly look for information," Sabine said. "Although we’re going to both look like off-worlders, since I don’t have any properly fitted armour."

"I find myself somewhat surprised at that," Sasha admitted, and Sabine shrugged. 

"At the academy, we wore Imperial-issued armour, plastoid crap, not true beskar’gam. And I hadn’t fully stopped growing, so I’d been holding off on having my personal armour forged," she admitted, trusting him enough to admit that she had access to personal armour, and a forge, despite the Imperial restrictions on forging beskar’gam.

"How long would it take you? To forge your armour?"

"Design to paint job? Probably a few days, although it depends what the goran has lined up," Sabine said. She could see Sasha sounding out the unfamiliar Mando’a, trying to parse out the meaning. "Blacksmith," she clarified, "armourer," and he nodded.

"You don’t have it designed already? At least in your head?" Sasha asked a little skeptically, and Sabine blushed slightly. "Thought so," he said with a smile. "Start putting those designs on flimsi, I’ll get you a dispensation so you can wear it on duty so long as it doesn’t blatantly fall outside uniform regs." Sabine looked up at him, eyes wide. 

"You’re serious?" Sabine breathed, and Sasha nodded firmly. Sabine threw herself into his arms, hugging Sasha tightly. He remained stiff for a moment, then relaxed, hugging her back gently. "You are the best partner ever," she breathed, and Sasha squeezed her gently. 

"I think according to everyone else in this courtyard you’re probably my girlfriend now," Sasha warned, and Sabine laughed with unbridled delight. 

The rest of that day, Sabine showed Sasha all her old haunts around the family compound. They took the time alone to outline what they were actually comfortable with in terms of faking a relationship in front of Sabine’s family. Hand holding and hugging was practically necessary, and hopefully not too awkward - and any awkwardness could be blamed on the newness of the relationship. Sparring and their usual verbal banter was not only good but relatively easy. Exchanging gifts would happen, but they would decide individually what to give each other and when, so their responses were authentic. 

They went so far as to script some answers about their assumed relationship. They agreed that they would say they hadn’t been intimate or even romantic prior to this, but this was the logical next step of their association. As agreed, Sabine would give Sasha a gift first, and semi-publically explain to him what that meant to a Mando’ad. She would train him on Mando cultural expectations, using others’ assumptions that he would eventually become her consort and a Wren, expanding their small clan. 

Sasha would reciprocate later with his gift, possibly in private assuming the gift was something other people would notice Sabine carrying or wearing. It was sort of fun, Sabine thought as they planned it out, like an undercover operation but with less chance of getting shot. It also gave her an excuse to ask about things that were only hinted at in his file, although she decided not to badger him too much about his past that particular afternoon.

When they returned to the compound, Sabine wasn’t terribly surprised to note her mother’s eyes lingering speculatively on Sasha’s arm where it lay around Sabine’s shoulders. Sabine continued her in-progress tale of youthful escapades, keeping Sasha’s attention. He would tense up, she knew, when he realized her mother was watching. But half the purpose of their trip was to get him to relax a bit.

That night the meal, like the night before, was just the family - her immediate blood family and the warriors who lived in the compound. Sabine made a concerted effort to speak more to Sasha, often leaning closer than was strictly necessary to translate the conversations around them. He leaned in to listen to her attentively, occasionally resting his hand on her shoulder or forearm. When the meal was over, Sabine offered to show Sasha the stars, a blatantly flirtatious invitation. Sasha nodded, and by the time they reached the doors out onto the balcony, his hand rested warm in the hollow of her back.

"They’ll be able to see us a bit through the glass, but not perfectly," Sabine explained when the door closed behind them. "I’m thinking we can go to Keldabe tomorrow, it’s only a couple hours in a good ship."

"Present hunting?" Sasha asked, and Sabine nodded.

"And info hunting," Sabine agreed. 

"Your friend."

"Yeah."

"Do you want help?" Sasha offered after a long moment, and Sabine glanced up, carefully reading his face. 

"I do, but I also don’t want you to get pulled into this if she’s found some sort of trouble."

"We’re about to be purposefully misleading your family and all our colleagues into thinking we’re dating. I think it’s likely I’ll be pulled into this no matter what."

Sabine sighed, turning away slightly to look out over the frozen lake. Ketsu was her friend. Her problem. But Sasha was her friend too. And he was right. No matter that they didn’t feel romantically towards one another, they were building the appearance of a romantic relationship. What affected one of them would affect the other.

"Ketsu Onyo," Sabine said, offering the name to signal she was accepting his help. "We met at the academy on Mandalore. She’s from Shukut, one of the other planets in the system, and we were the top students in all of the design labs. She was my best friend, we did everything together. Great shot too, fierce. But when my grades started slipping, I started pushing everyone away. Including her," Sabine said, not sharing the reason why her grades had tanked. She trusted Sasha, but not quite that far. Not yet, and maybe not ever. "She was really pissed with me when I got assigned to the shuttle run, but then when I got back, she was just - gone. Not even a note."

Sabine curled in on herself as she spoke, thinking of Ketsu’s lovely violet eyes and the smug quirk of her smile when she bested Sabine at hand-to-hand. They’d been working on a graffiti tag that would be their own - their symbol. Sasha settled his arm around her shoulders again. He fit well there, tall and warm and sturdy at her side. Sabine leaned into him, not caring what it looked like, just wanting the comfort he freely offered. 

"I don’t recognize the name, which at least means there’s nothing serious pending against her," Sasha offered, and Sabine let out a small, nervous laugh. "Do your asking. When we get back to work, I’ll do my own nosing around." Sabine let out a breath, realizing she did feel a bit better for having told him. 

"Thanks," Sabine said, and Sasha squeezed his arm around her shoulders in a half hug, ducking slightly to press a soft, brotherly kiss to her hair. "I just - I really miss her. We worked really well together, on partnered projects. We’d got so we could hardly best each other at all anymore, on the training grounds. I thought - I thought we really got one another, you know?"

"You liked her," Sasha said with quiet understanding. Sabine blinked, then again. 

"Kriff," Sabine breathed. "I did, didn’t I?" Sasha chuckled softly, but let her process that at her own speed. She really did. "Uh, my timing sucks," Sabine grumbled. Sasha laughed, trying to smother the sound of his amusement in her hair. "Yeah yeah, laugh it up blondie," she grouched, honestly a bit relieved to hear him so amused. He didn’t laugh often, and she relished the sound of it. 

"Sorry, sorry," Sasha gasped out. "I just - I shouldn’t laugh, I’ve been there. I mean - not this exact situation-"

"Okay, now I need the story," Sabine demanded, setting aside her earlier resolve not to push too hard about Sasha’s past.

"You know I was in the Republic Fleet, then Imperial Fleet, before I was ISB?" Sasha asked, shifting to lean against the railing, looking out over the frozen lake. Sabine nodded. "I joined Coruscant Home Fleet not long before the New Order. As part of the push for an Imperial Peace at the end of the war, Admiral Screed took us to the Outer Rim as part of the Reconquest. There were still a lot of clones in the Fleet then, and I ended up in a pretty serious relationship with one of the brothers who served as a Navigation Officer."

"That’s why you’re picking up Mando’a so quickly, you already knew some," Sabine cut in to accuse. Sasha nodded. Sabine thought back to the single hint toward that relationship in his file, a tattoo in Mando’a on the inside of his left thigh listed in his identifying marks. A lover’s claim, Satine had guessed, and seemed to be proven right.

"Tion taught me a lot, but I haven’t used Mando’a in years. I’ve gotten exceedingly rusty," Sasha said, and Sabine could see the weight of it now, the loss that bowed his shoulders. 

"What happened?" 

"Gods, it took forever to realize," Sasha huffed out, shaking his head. "He was - they say the clones age at twice the age of natural born humans, and he was maybe twelve years out of his jar, but already had silver in his hair. He was so handsome Sabine, and so damn smart. I’d never seen someone do hyperspace jump calculations off the top of their head before, but he could figure faster than the navcomp sometimes, and he just - he always knew just the right heading to place us on. I can’t even guess how many times he saved that whole damn ship.

"I would have just stared after him like a monkey-lizard forever if he hadn’t made the first move. He offered to spar one day - I had no idea of the significance, assuming it’s the same for the clones as it is for Mandalorians, but I accepted quite eagerly. He handed me my ass so fast - I don’t think I’d ever been knocked for a loop so quickly. I was always one of the bigger kids my age at school and he just - put me flat on my back, then leaned down and told me that if I managed to last another five minutes on the mats he’d let me suck him off."

"And that was all the incentive you needed?" Sabine asked, and Sasha gave her a wide, lewd grin. She laughed softly. 

"I spent more time in his bunk than my own after that, but it didn’t really hit me I was half in love with him until I decided to leave the Fleet," Sasha said, the smile dropping from his face. Sabine shifted closer to him, pressing their arms together in comfort before she made the gesture for continuation, and Sasha nodded. "When I transferred to ISB and went to the academy, he offered to transfer with me," Sasha said quietly after a few moments. 

"I told him not to - he was up for a promotion, his own command, which was rare and getting rarer as they forced the clones out of the military. He stayed with Crimson Dagger, and got his ship. While he wasn’t a Captain by rank, he was in practice. He got to hand pick his crew, and filled his ship with his brothers. I tried to keep in touch, and for a while, so did he. But slowly a distance that had nothing to do with parsecs grew between us. A few years later, when I was recovering after Onderon, an agent showed up at my flat. Tion and his ship had defected, tried to run to Mandalorian space. There were no survivors, and I was still listed as his next of kin despite that we hadn’t spoken in nearly a year. I was under investigation for - a while afterwards. It was only my actions on Lasan that cleared my name."

"Ka’ra."

Sasha smiled grimly, turning finally to look down at her. His amber gaze was heavy, and Sabine waited, wondering what assurance he was looking for. Finally he gave a small, sad smile and raised his arm. Sabine accepted, slipping her arms around his waist and hugging him. 

"It was a helluva welcome home," Sasha said dryly, but the way he curled her close told Sabine that the pain was still there, buried deep with all the other horrors. 

"Your life kinda sucks, Sasha," Sabine said, gently rubbing his back. Sasha let out a harsh bark of a laugh, then shrugged. 

"Yeah well, life’s like that, then you die," Sasha said.

"And so optimistic too," Sabine chided, pinching his side. Sasha let out a soft grunt, and shrugged. Sabine rolled her eyes. He really was terrible at being human. She’d have to get him up to speed now that she’d decided to adopt him. "We’re going to work on that," she warned him, and Sasha groaned somewhat theatrically. Sabine laughed, and stepped away so they just leaned lightly together.

"So what’s our plan for tomorrow?" Sasha asked, and Sabine sighed. Avoidance, right on schedule. 

"I can get use of one of the larger ships easily, it’s a short flight to Keldabe," Sabine said. "Depending on the time, we can also stop at Sundari, but I like Keldabe better, and I’m more likely to find something suitable for a courtship gift there." Sasha nodded. 

"We should probably go back inside soon," Sasha said after a while longer. "Your mother keeps glancing over like she expects to surprise us getting up to something untoward." Sabine snorted softly. 

"Yeah, subtlety isn’t really in the Mando handbook," Sabine said with a smile. "No one is going to be surprised in the least when we start giving one another gifts." 

"You’ll have to tell me the rest of what a courtship should entail," Sasha warned. Sabine nodded. 

"Tomorrow," Sabine promised, and led him back inside by the hand. As much as Sabine could tell Sasha wanted to retreat in front of her mother’s gimlet gaze, Sabine kept him at her side, her fingers loose around his. If Sasha really wanted to break her hold he could, but he stayed there, making awkwardly stilted smalltalk until Sabine was leaning into him sleepily. 

"I think you should be in bed Sabine," Sasha said gently, head tilted down to hers. Sabine grumbled, shifting to wrap her arm around his waist so she could lean on him more comfortably. Sasha chuckled softly, and said something polite to her mother, then gently steered Sabine from the room. In the hall, he picked her up easily, carrying her like a child up to her room.

* * *

Sabine woke later the next morning than she’d intended, fully dressed save her boots, and laid on top of her covers. She couldn’t help a fond smile at Sasha’s utter decency, and then she was up, going to wash up and dress. When she reached the kitchen, she wasn’t surprised to find Sasha at the table, eating neral porridge again. 

"At least put some fruit on top, your meal is depressing," Sabine greeted. His outfit was depressing too, she decided. She was pretty sure those were regulation uniform slacks and knee boots, and the top was so nearly a uniform jacket it made her itch. The solid black looked good on him, although she was looking forward to seeing if she couldn’t talk him into some other colours too.

"Good morning Sabine," Sasha returned dryly, taking a sip of caf. She rolled her eyes, and selected a few fruit pastries practically dripping with sweet syrup for her own first meal. They ate in silence, finishing around the same time as Sasha slowly sipped at some more caf while reading through the overnight bulletins. 

"So, Keldabe?" Sabine asked when she finished, dumping her dishes for the droid to take care of. Sasha looked up, then nodded before shotgunning the rest of his caf. 

"Let me put this away," Sasha said, gesturing with his datapad. "Should I put on a blaster?" Sabine cocked her head, then nodded. 

"Yeah, I should grab mine too," Sabine said. "Meet me down front in a few." Sasha nodded, and when Sabine returned from her room, he was waiting in the entryway, sidearm strapped to his thigh and jacket in his arms. "It’ll be warmer in Keldabe," she said, nodding at the jacket. Sasha shrugged. 

"So I’ll leave it in the ship."

Sabine shrugged in turn, and led him out, then around to the hanger. Most of the ships parked there were Fang starfighters, single person crafts used to defend the Wrens’ stronghold. The family ships were settled further back, including the kom’rk Sabine had decided to use for their jaunt. While the larger starfighter could also be used as a troop transport, it could be easily handled by a single pilot. The craft Sabine had chosen was the one used mainly for family excursions - well armed and armoured, but also comfortably furnished for longer trips.

"You ever been in one of these before?" Sabine asked as she settled into the pilot’s seat, hands moving deftly over the familiar controls. 

"Not this variety. We sometimes had Fang fighters in the hangars, and I could probably handle piloting one of those," Sasha said, watching her prep the ship for launch. Sabine nodded, and then commed the guard to let them know she was heading out and would be back for late meal in the evening. As she promised, it was a short flight - they reached Manda’yaim airspace a few hours after leaving the Wren compound on Krownest, and were soon settled into a secure berth in the Keldabe spaceport. 

Leading Sasha out into the city, Sabine watched curiously from the corner of her eye to see what he made of the more diverse population here. Before the Empire, species hadn’t mattered in the least to those claiming to be the children of Mandalore. Sasha didn’t blink at seeing Twi’lek and Togruta and Sullustans mingling freely with humans, so either he’d expected that, or he didn’t think it abnormal. Sabine made a mental note to ask later, then led him toward the Chortav Goran’e - the metalworkers street - where she was certain she’d find something appropriate to signal her intent to her family. 

The two of them wandered from shop to shop, stopping to look at displays or just watch the other shoppers as they went about their business. They’d each made a few purchases by mid day, when they stopped for a meal at the famous Oyu’baat hotel. Sabine made quiet suggestions of food she thought Sasha would like, or at least things that wouldn’t make him sick. He ended up having poached fish and neral with a mild citrus sauce. Sabine selected something much spicier, and happily ate it up, even as her eyes watered. 

"You need clothing that isn’t just an Imperial uniform with the rank bar taken off," Sabine decided when they’d finished their meal. 

"This isn’t-" Sasha began, and Sabine shut him up with a sharp look. He sighed. "Alright, lead on," he grumped.

With a victorious smile, Sabine set out to find a clothing shop. She needed a few things herself; she’d grown since the last time she was home, especially through the shoulders and arms where she’d put on some muscle. As they walked, Sabine explained the traditional meanings of the colours in Mando culture. It was less significant in textiles than in armour, but still a way a statement could be made. Wren colours tended to be black and gold and grey, but Sabine certainly didn’t expect him to dress solely in her colours - she didn’t always wear them herself. 

"I don’t know, justice and vengeance seem like a pretty solid aesthetic to me," Sasha teased, and Sabine scoffed, but couldn’t help smiling a bit. In truth, black and gold _would_ look good on him, and he was clearly comfortable in all black. Sabine shrugged, not anticipating she’d see him in anything else if left to his own devices. 

When they returned to Krownest that night, each of them carried a few bags from shops they’d stopped at in Keldabe, and Sabine was fairly certain that there was a present for her among Sasha’s purchases. She had thought about commissioning something from the family goran, but wasn’t entirely sure how long it would take. Instead she’d looked through a shop that sold weaponry, and found a beautiful knife for him, beskar folded and re-folded in the traditional manner and honed so the layers rippled like light on water.

From certain angles, the metal looked almost red, a subtle acknowledgement of Sasha’s time in the Crimson Dagger Command. The hilt was bone, carved to fit perfectly in the hand, and exquisitely balanced. The only decorations were the sturdy brass fittings and a small gold-filled engraving of a bird in flight on the handle, not exactly the starbird Sabine favoured, but close. 

It was a lovely piece of work, and Sabine was certain Sasha would like it. More importantly, he would appreciate the gift without reading too much into it, although everyone else would see it as Sabine announcing her intent to bed him. Having found such a lovely gift, she could hardly wait to give it to him. Still, she had to choose her time and place carefully for maximum effect.

After their long day, Sabine retired fairly early that night. She headed up not long after dinner, and sketched her designs for her beskar’gam for a little while before bed. She dozed off dreaming of how she would shape the plates, if she were a goran, and woke with an awful crick in her neck. She’d keep working on it today, she decided as she dressed, and then huffed at her reflection in the looking glass. She was getting bored with this haircut. She’d have to double check the manual and see what she could do to spice things up a little without breaking the uniform regs.

After first meal, Sabine sparred with Sasha again, although this time they forewent weaponry and fought empty handed. Like this, they were a more even match, Sasha’s strength against Sabine’s speed. Sabine ducked under a hit, laughing and whirling out of reach. 

"Come on, you fight like the training manual," Sabine teased, and Sasha gave a broad, feral grin, then charged. Sabine squawked as Sasha connected, and then she was being laid almost gently on her back, Sasha looming over her, his hand cradling her head. His hair fell loose and soft over his face, and he still had that obnoxious grin on his face. 

"What does that say about you then?" Sasha teased back, and Sabine wrinkled her nose at him. He rose, hauling her to her feet. "Don’t worry, I’m well aware you’ll kick my ass one of these days." 

Sabine scoffed, then launched a flurry of swift strikes. Sasha turned some aside, absorbing others. This time, Sabine managed to get inside his reach. She grabbed his arm as he tried to grapple, and then she had him on his belly. Quickly, knowing he’d be able to break the sloppy hold before long, Sabine managed to secure his hands. 

"One of these days Sasha?" Sabine teased, leaning down to speak quietly in his ear. She had to pin him with her full weight, and she was pretty sure that he could probably free himself if he really wanted to. But instead he laughed. Sabine sat up slightly, letting go of his hands, and Sasha simply shifted beneath her on the mats. Sabine crouched up slightly, and found herself sitting on his muscular thighs. She was glad her face was already hot and splotchy with exertion, otherwise she’d blush at their position. 

"I am at your mercy, Lady Sabine," Sasha said with a smirk. She just shook her head, smiling fondly.

"Hit the showers blondie," Sabine ordered, patting his hairy cheek. "I have things I want to do today." She stood and strode off, knowing they’d only strengthened the rumours that there was more than friendship between them. It was the plan. And she always enjoyed getting the drop on Sasha. But it still felt weird to know that her mother - hell, half the compound by now probably - thought she and Sasha were dating.

With a sigh, Sabine went to shower herself, then headed to the clan’s armour vault. While she had plenty of ideas and a few sketches already, she wanted to double check the beskar’gam that she’d selected to have re-forged as her own, and speak with the goran again about what she wanted. The armour had belonged to her mother’s grandmother, Delina Rook, back when Clan Rook had been little more than upjumped smugglers. Delina had won the armour in a fight, and brought it with her when she married into Clan Wren. It had been a few hundred years old then, and seen heavy battle. From the family records, Sabine knew she looked a great deal like Delina Rook. She liked to think she had the same fiercely independent spirit, too.

Sabine took her measurements, and weighed and measured the beskar’gam, noting everything down in her datapad. Delina had been taller than Sabine, and since the beskar’gam was fitted to Delina as an older woman, it was formed for a stouter frame. Measurements taken, Sabine sketched idly as she debated exactly what she wanted the goran to do. She’d studied beskar and beskar’gam while she was developing her energy weapon prototype at the academy, and the materials science was almost as fascinating to her as the designs.

Knowing she couldn’t just hide out in the armour vault all day, Sabine took her datapad full of measurements and information and headed back up to the house. Her mother, she knew, would likely be in her office, seeing to the business of the clan. Her father would either be researching or painting in his studio. Her brother came and went, fulfilling his own obligations as an Imperial Super Commando. She instead searched out Sasha, and found him in the library.

Sasha wore one of his new outfits - a tunic of honeycomb-patterned charcoal and dove grey that hung to mid thigh, and charcoal trousers tucked into his usual black boots. Sabine couldn’t help but wonder if he’d chosen grey knowing it was the colour of lost love, chosen it for his Tion who was marching far away. Part of her wasn’t sure Sasha was capable of being that tragically romantic, but she had also seen much more of the softer and more vulnerable parts of Sasha since bringing him to Krownest. She couldn’t dismiss the idea entirely. As Sabine entered, Sasha looked up from his reading, nodding to her in greeting.

"Find anything interesting?" Sabine asked, joining him on the sofa. 

"Well, the selection of books written in Basic is - _lacking_ \- so I’m reading the translation dictionary," Sasha teased. Sabine laughed softly. 

"Let me guess, it’s written for Mando’a to Basic learners and you’re trying to back-translate?" Sabine said, and Sasha flushed slightly, dipping his head in affirmation. "Such a nerd," she said fondly, then shifted so she could see which language manual he was using. "I have a newer edition that has voice recordings if you want," she offered, and Sasha just looked at her expectantly. 

With a laugh, Sabine rose to go fetch the datachip from her room. She grabbed a few others she thought he might find interesting - Mando’a versions of Imperial manuals, a few of the more basic histories. The two of them spent the rest of the morning together, Sabine sketching and thinking about armour, Sasha working on Mando’a.

After mid meal, Sabine decided they should go for a walk, and dragged Sasha out into the snow. He grouched, not a fan of the chill temperatures, but humoured her nonetheless. On their shopping expedition, Sasha hadn’t thought to buy a heavy coat; thankfully there were a few around the compound he could borrow. Sabine couldn’t help but be amused at the sight of him wrapped up in her brother’s puffy white parka.

Despite Sasha’s grumping about the cold and snow, he was polite as usual that night during the meal. He seemed to understand a little more of the conversation around him too, although he didn’t try to speak in Mando’a. Still, Sabine thought he was making progress. The spicy soup didn’t even make his eyes water.

"Feel like having me officially initiate our courtship, or wait a little longer?" Sabine asked quietly as they settled together on a sofa with tihaar after the meal. There were a few others in the room, but it was about as private as they’d get without going out onto a balcony or up to one of their bedrooms. And the entire point of this exercise was to have people know they were together, and planned to stay together.

"Up to you," Sasha said, looking down at her with a slight smile. 

"I really want to see if you like it," Sabine admitted, and produced the sheathed knife from one of her many pockets. Sasha accepted, drawing the blade. He let out a low sound of appreciation, lifting the blade to better see it - and also let everyone else in the room see the gift Sabine had given him.

"You know me well," Sasha admitted, quiet but just loud enough to be heard, "it’s beautiful." Sabine grinned.

"I thought you’d like it. Shall I tell you all the significances, in case anyone asks?"

"Please."

"The blade itself is beskar. In the old days, that just meant native iron, but now it’s a durasteel alloy, made stronger because of the composition of the local ores. Beskar is what makes beskar’gam nearly lightsaber proof, although you probably shouldn’t go fight a Jedi with a belt knife," Sabine explained, and Sasha let out a low snort of amusement.

"Depending on what the smith used to quench the blade, the colour shifts slightly, so red for your Fleet days," Sabine continued. Like Sasha, she pitched her voice so it sounded like she was speaking only to him, but could still clearly be heard by the others in the room. "They didn’t say what type of bone the handle is, but bone is probably the most popular hilt material in the entire sector, so there’s always lots of design options. I thought you’d like something relatively simple. The gold from Clan Wren’s colours, and I tend to use a starbird motif as my personal sigil - the jai’galaar or shriek-hawk is the symbol of Clan Vizsla, to whom the Wrens hold allegiance. This isn't really either of those, just a bird, so it’s similar but doesn’t accidently identify you as a member of House Vizsla. Still. Anyone in my family, and most who know us, could look at that knife and immediately guess who gave it to you."

"That’s a helluva statement," Sasha said, and Sabine smiled. "Thank you."

Sabine nodded, and then Sasha was wrapping her up in a hug. Sabine hugged back, pleased her gift had been so well received. When they parted, Sasha unbuckled his belt and slid the dagger on, so it hung neatly at his waist. It looked good there, Sabine thought, glad she’d gone for the matte black sheathe. They sat curled together a while longer, talking about knives and fighting, and Sabine was utterly unsurprised to find her mother watching them like a hawk when she scanned the room at large.

"So tomorrow?" Sabine asked quietly as they crossed the room.

"I’ll meet you in the kitchen for first meal," Sasha said, just loud enough that he could be heard by those around them, but not obviously inviting eavesdroppers. Sabine nodded, mentally congratulating herself for choosing an excellent fake boyfriend. He ducked in close, speaking low into her ear. "I’ll walk you up," he offered, and Sabine nodded, leaning into his warm bulk. They exited with Sasha’s arm curled around Sabine’s shoulders, and hers looped around his waist, her fingers stroking along the handle of the knife in case any one had missed the significant gift.

* * *

As promised, and had become almost routine, Sasha was in the kitchen when Sabine went down in the morning. Neral porridge as usual, she noted with a sigh, then fetched her own food. Sasha smirked at her disdainful look, so she elbowed him in the side as she sat. He was wearing her knife openly at the waist, and another all black outfit. It at least had a little tone-on-tone detailing on the sleeves and shoulders, simple woven geometric patterns.

"I’m guessing you’ll be working on your armour again today?" Sasha said when he’d finished his first cup of caf. Sabine nodded, then swallowed her mouthful of toasted waffles.

"Yeah, I’m thinking I’ll go visit the armourer today, talk specs for a while, if you think you can amuse yourself that long," Sabine said, using the Basic word for the goran, that Sasha would understand. Sasha nodded.

"I think I’ve almost got the alphabet figured out," Sasha said with a thin smile. "I may be able to work my way up to children’s stories today."

"You’ll get it," Sabine said confidently, then tossed back the last of her shig and ruffled Sasha’s too neat hair. "See ya later." Sasha swatted at her hand, and then she was off, down to power up a speeder to take to the forge. She’d stayed up a bit after going to her room the night before, and had finalized the design she wanted. Now she just had to bring the old beskar’gam to the goran, and answer their questions.

Even before she arrived at the goran’s well hidden compound, her mother commed to insist that Sabine _would_ be at late-meal on time, and _would_ be dressed semi-formally. Sabine grumbled, but acquiesced, not wanting a fight. A few hours later, her mom actually commed her again to remind her, and so Sabine left the forge, despite wanting to watch the goran work for a little longer. Reading about metallurgy was nothing to watching the goran work the forge in person, and watching the process of creation awakened a feeling in Sabine that could only be described as religious. She could see why the forge was the closest the Mando’ade had to a temple or house of worship.

On her way through the compound when she returned, Sabine noted that there were more people around than usual. So some type of larger group meal, perhaps a welcome home from the wider clan. She selected some of her nicer new clothing, a long tailored jacket in deep black with gold detailing on the cuffs of the sleeves in a geometric feather motif. Stepping out of her room, Sabine smiled at Sasha, who was waiting in the hall.

Sasha had made a similar stylistic decision, although the golden feathers stitched on his jacket yoked his broad shoulders, then swept down much of his back, a few trailing over his chest and reflecting up into his equally gold hair. She couldn’t help but think Wren colours really did look good on him, and while he likely hadn’t known when he bought the jacket that she used a starbird as her personal sigil, the jacket all but proclaimed him hers. She smiled, knowing they’d present just the right image to convince her mother they were serious.

"Oh you emerge," Sasha greeted with a tease, embracing her and kissing her cheek. "Your mother has a very large group of people down there," he warned quietly.

"I noticed the compound was busier than usual when I got back," Sabine agreed. "She’s up to something."

Sasha chuckled softly, and they walked into the hall with his arm around her. Between them, the dagger she had given him pressed firm against Sabine’s side, a silent promise of their solidarity. She doubted it was the only weapon he was wearing either. She was outfitted with her standard small armoury herself. 

They made small talk for the next little while, Sabine translating when the guests refused to speak Basic. It was aggravating, but not entirely unexpected, and she knew Sasha probably understood a lot more than others realized. It was a rather clever way of making himself seem slightly less than he was. ‘Big dumb blond’ was one of his favorite disguises, and it worked alarmingly well at times, even with people who ought to know better. 

Eventually they were seated, and the food was brought out. Sabine carefully schooled her reaction at seeing the plates of small delicacies, but she was certain Sasha had noticed something was up. He leaned over just slightly, as they were already sitting quite close. Sabine took a slow breath. Even as she did, her mother rose and began to praise Sabine - and Sasha - for their dedication to the Empire and the bond between them. 

" _Osik_ ," Sabine breathed out. "Sasha - she thinks - I know we set her up to think we’re in a romantic relationship, but this is a _betrothal_ party," she hissed. Only someone who knew Sasha as well as she did would note the quickly blanked look of horror on his face. Betrothal was a much more serious relationship than they’d wanted others to assume they had. A courtship could easily be set aside. A betrothal was a more weighty matter. 

"She - she does realize we’re both gay, right?" 

"I mean, she knows I am, and if she hasn’t noticed you staring at Fenn Rau’s shebs she’s blind," Sabine acknowledged, downing a shot of narcolethe. Sasha blushed profusely and spluttered, so Sabine let herself enjoy that small measure of amusement. 

"With everyone in armour, it’s hard to tell if it’s even a nice ass," Kallus grumbled, "and besides, I’m - a lot older than you." Sabine didn’t argue that. He was a decade her senior, already a veteran when she was just learning to walk. "We’ll have to play along for now," Sasha sighed. "That’s Rau, huh? Blue and grey armour with a touch of gold?" 

"You’re awful," Sabine murmured. "Yes, the blue and grey and gold armour, that’s the Protector. They say he’s an idealist, and not for the Empire either. Scuttlebutt says he wears the grey and gold for the Duchess in exile. If he had his druthers, Lady Bo-Katan would sit the Sundari throne and Mandalore would be independent. The Viceroy would love to see Rau exiled, but the Protectors won’t follow anyone else, and he’s careful, never does anything that could be considered actual sedition or treason, stays on Saxon’s good side. Not that Gar Saxon really has a good side." 

"Please tell me Gar Saxon isn’t here," Sasha said, a faint note of horror in his voice, and Sabine chuckled. 

"He’s not, you’d know it in a second. Only one asshole wears armour that ugly. I take it you know him?" 

"I know he’s a power hungry bootlicker," Sasha said disdainfully. 

"Something else we agree on," Sabine said, then shifted slightly to tell Sasha what the various dishes were. They’d just have to play it through, Sabine decided. They’d only be on Krownest a few more days, and even betrothals sometimes ended up not leading to weddings. Sabine ended up drinking more than she’d planned, and while she noticed that Sasha was probably putting back just as much, he also weighed about twice what she did, and had a lot more practice. 

They stayed together most of the evening, Sabine translating with increasing asides as she drank more. They were separated a few times; once, Sabine was cornered by her aunt Ruusaan, another time, by her parents, a few times by former classmates at the Imperial academy. Sasha seemed to manage well enough, talking with her parents but also some of the clan's warriors who were willing to speak Basic. He actually fell into an intent conversation with Fenn Rau that Sabine would have to tease him about at some point - from the body language, they were very interested in whatever they were talking about. Through it all, Sabine kept putting back tihaar. She was tipsy by the end of the night, leaning into Sasha and thankful for his arm around her. 

* * *

Sabine woke to a pounding headache. She groaned softly, mentally cursing the distant sun, then dragged herself to the fresher, knowing she’d feel better when she’d had some water and a painkiller. She stumbled down to the kitchen a while later and was utterly unsurprised to find Sasha waiting on her. He’d already fixed a mug of shig for her, and she inhaled it greedily, then settled at his side, pushed her way up under his arm, and groaned theatrically. 

"Please tell me I didn’t do anything too dumb last night," Sabine begged. 

"You didn’t do anything too dumb last night. You mostly just stuck yourself to my side and cuddled and insulted the designs of people’s armour," Sasha reassured. 

"I - hope I didn’t do that where they could hear me?" 

"I think we’re good on that front. Are you back down in the forge today?" 

"Yeah, I like watching the armourer work, and I want to see how much progress they’ve made." 

"Do you have a jumpsuit for underneath?" 

"My old one still fits." 

"Hmmm," Sasha said, and raised an eyebrow, then dropped a soft package wrapped in plain paper on the table in front of her. 

"Are - you got me a new jumpsuit?" Sabine asked, knowing that was _not_ a small investment. 

"Open it up and find out," Sasha said with a grin. Sabine ripped through the wrapping, letting out a low sound of appreciation as her hands swept over the fabric. It was clearly armourweave, but it had to be the nicest armourweave she’d ever seen. It draped beautifully, and there was even a bit of give to the material. It was in a slightly greyed black, but it would work very well with almost any of the finish-coat designs she had in mind. 

"Manda, why were you not born a woman?" Sabine breathed, and Sasha laughed delightedly. 

"I take it you like it?" 

"I _love it_ Sasha. I didn’t even notice you looking at jumpsuits." 

"We’ll have to work on your situational awareness." 

"Ugh, I take it back, you’re the worst, go away," Sabine said, but she was still smiling, her fingers trailing over the jumpsuit. "I noticed you talking up Rau well enough," she said, and Sasha flushed slightly. She grinned, folding the jumpsuit into her lap and raising her eyebrows in silent question. 

"We got to talking about Mando history," Sasha said, cheeks still pinked. "He's an interesting conversationalist, although I think I understand better what you were saying before we ate. He's a bit of a romantic, I think." Sabine thought Sasha had wanted that to come out as an insult, but his tone sounded a bit admiring instead. She shook her head. 

"I feel like I should be offended that my parents threw us an almost-engagement party and you ended up with a crush on the Protector," Sabine said with a laugh. 

"Shut up, I'll take that present back," Sasha said, but his tone was more amused than annoyed. 

"No you won't," Sabine said confidently. 

"No I won't," Sasha agreed with a smile. 

"This armour is going to be so kick-ass," Sabine said quietly, stroking the jumpsuit again. Sasha shook his head. 

"I’ll let you get back to it," Sasha, still smiling fondly. 

"No working through leave," Sabine demanded. "At least go beat up the training droids for a bit." 

"As you wish my Lady," Sasha said, rising and giving her a mocking bow. 

Sabine scoffed, then turned back to the table and wolfed down her cold toast, hangover forgotten as her mind turned to her armour. A few hours later, she looked away from the blue fire of the forge when a shadow fell over her. Looking up, Sabine was a bit surprised to find Sasha standing at a safe distance and looking around. He wouldn’t have found the forge without very specific directions from her mother, and while the dinner the night previous had been everything but an official betrothal announcement, she hadn’t expected this acknowledgment of their relationship. 

The clan’s forge was the closest thing to a chapel or temple most Mando’ade ever went into, the goran something like a priest, testing their knowledge and blessing them with weapons and beskar’gam. Only members of the clan were accepted inside, so for her mother to send Sasha here - that was pretty blatant acceptance of Sasha’s place in Sabine’s life. Except that her mother thought that place was as her future spouse, not trusted-mentor-becoming-brother-by-choice. Sharing the forging process - even the design and paint steps - was incredibly intimate, and just the idea that Sasha had seen the dully gleaming plates of her unfinished armour on the work surfaces - made her a bit uncomfortable. While she trusted Sasha almost implicitly, it still set the hairs on her arms creeping a bit. Sabine sighed. She’d have to explain it to him. Later. 

"What’s up?" Sabine asked. 

"Mid meal," Sasha said. "Your mother couldn’t raise you on your comm." Sabine grimaced, glancing over at where her comm lay halfway across the forge on the holotable projecting her designs. Sasha followed her gaze and chuckled. "I figured it was something like that. Come on." Sabine nodded, and they headed out into the chilly sunlight together. Sabine was quiet as they walked to the main house from the speeder bay, trying to figure out how to explain the sanctity of the forge to Sasha. 

"There you are," Ursa greeted with a slight, stiff smile. "You found her alright Alexsandr?" 

"Yes, thank you," Sasha said, his smile just as stiff. Sabine furiously silenced the hysterical giggle that tickled the back of her throat. Her mother clearly wasn’t pleased that Sabine had brought home an outsider and seemed intent on taking him as her partner. And yet she was clearly trying to honour Sabine’s choice, trying to accept Sasha into the family. It was a lovely thing, save for the fact that Sabine had zero interest in bedding Sasha. 

* * *

It took another day for the goran to finish Sabine’s armour, and although she went to check in the morning, Sabine spent the rest of the day with Sasha either on the training grounds or in the library, working on his Mando’a and her designs for the paint job. She carefully explained to him the significance of the forge, and somehow it turned into talking about Mando myths and legends, the importance of arms and armour, the Resol’nare and a half dozen other cultural topics that no author had ever bothered to write about in Basic - at least not in any way that was half respectful to the Mando’ade. 

Once her paint job had dried, and Sabine was satisfied with her matte black armour with glossy tone on tone detailing, she took them on a day trip to the domed city of Sundari. Most of the inhabitants there looked askance at her armoured form, and just as disdainfully at Sasha given he strode at her side in Wren colours, openly wearing at least three weapons, including his captured bo-rifle. Sasha didn’t seem to mind, and Sabine - Sabine felt no small amount of pride. 

The New Mandalorians who dominated in Sundari had been the losers the last time their clans did battle, and while Sabine had been a child back then, she took pride in her clan’s strength. She might not be a fan of Gar Saxon, who was the head of the Death Watch faction to which her family belonged, and she wasn’t a rabid believer in all of the Death Watch beliefs either. But pacifism - that had never seemed like a winning idea to Sabine. Warfare was bred too deep in the Mando psyche. 

In Sundari, they walked through the areas of the palace that were open to the public. The building was no longer in use as a governmental facility, and to Sabine’s knowledge, none of the Kryze family was in residence. When Lady Bo-Katan had gone into exile, some said her nephew had retreated to their ancestral estates on Kalevala. Most believed that he had been killed with the rest of the cadets of the old Royal Academy on the Night of a Thousand Tears, when the Empire had implemented their regime in a rain of heavy blasterfire. 

Some thought the former regent was on Kalevala too, but most agreed it was more likely she’d removed herself from the family stronghold. Those who believed that Korkie Kryze still lived claimed it was to prevent her injured nephew from being attacked. Sabine wasn’t sure whether Korkie Kryze was alive or not, but she’d always liked Lady Bo-Katan - she’d had been willing to fight for their people, at first as a member of Death Watch resisting her sister’s cultural genocide. Later, Bo-Katan’s Nite Owls hadn’t been a large enough faction to secure her the leadership of the entire Death Watch faction, and Saxon had bowed to the Emperor, then exiled the Nite Owls. 

As they flew back to their sector at the end of leave, Sabine couldn’t help but be a little amazed at the changes the brief break had enabled. While she’d trusted Sasha before, and even liked him, over their leave, Sabine had, for the first time, the chance to see her friend truly relax. Only when they were alone together, true, but it was a marked thawing from his usual icy rigidity. He was always perfectly polite with her parents, as if they were superior officers rather than the loving people who raised her. Had he ever known loving parents? Sabine couldn’t help but wonder, and pulled up his dossier again. 

_Kallus Home for Children_ was listed as his residence on his Fleet registration forms as a 17 year old, and her heart broke a little. His parents were both logged as ‘UNKNOWN,’ as was his birthdate. He was a foundling, and the Fleet had likely been the first, closest thing to family he had known. Sabine heard his voice in her memory, almost fond as he spoke of Colonel Yularen, another former Fleet man, and now head of ISB - but before that one of Sasha’s instructors. Her resolve solidified. He was her brother now, as surely as Tristan was, and he would just have to deal with that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a**  
>  Aruetii = traitor, foreigner, outsider  
> Beskar'gam = armour  
> Goran('e) = blacksmith, metalworker  
> Ka'ra = stars - ancient Mandalorian myth - ruling council of fallen kings  
> Manda'yaim = the planet of Mandalore  
> Mando'ad(e) = child(ren) of Mandalore  
> Neral = grain  
> Osik = dung (impolite)  
> Shebs = backside, rear, buttocks (also rear of building etc)  
> Shig = beverage - any infusion of whatever's available, but usually a mildly stimulant herb with a citrus flavor called behot


	2. Chapter 2

Shortly after Sabine and Sasha’s leave was over, ISB intervention was requested by one of the Ministers of Lothal. Evidently word of their successes in the Mykapo sector had spread, and Lothal was experiencing its own issues with rebels. When they arrived, it was easy to see that the Governor, newly instated, was not pleased with their assignment to the planet. But Governor Pryce was still in training on Coruscant, and wouldn’t arrive for months if not longer. Until then, Minister Tua was in command, and she wanted ISB reinforcements.

Sabine and Sasha traded a silent, speaking look as they left their first holo-conference with Tua and Pryce. The former was dangerous out of sheer incompetence - she was loyal, yes, but flighty. Likely her appointment had been pure politics. Pryce was dangerous in an entirely different manner. They would have to tread carefully with her if they wanted to keep any sort of autonomy in their investigations. Success, they both knew, would go a great length toward ensuring their results weren’t mired in political infighting.

The success Sabine and Sasha sought, they soon learned, was in short supply when they were facing the chief ship of the Lothal rebel cell, the Ghost. When one of the rebels aboard the Ghost stepped forward and ignited a lightsaber, the reason they hadn’t easily wrapped up this assignment became more apparent - the rebels had a Jedi. In the end, the ISB agents had to retreat, the rebels taking the day. 

"We’ll have to call in an Inquisitor," Sasha said quietly as they returned to their stations. Sabine grimaced. She’d never met one of the infamous Force-users who hunted Jedi at the Emperor's command, and wasn’t looking forward to it. She knew Sasha wasn’t pleased about it either - an Inquisitor meant more oversight than either of them really liked. Sasha and Sabine liked handling their cases in specific ways, which didn't always follow Imperial protocol. An Inquisitor around meant they would have to follow Imperial procedure precisely, which likely wouldn't help their success rate in the least.

Over the next few months, the Ghost and her crew escaped them repeatedly, even when they had the help of the Inquisitors. Just mention of the ship had Sabine grinding her teeth and set Sasha’s eye twitching in annoyance. It didn’t help that the Ghost crew had a Mando’ad among their number, and Sabine was growing more and more certain that she’d found her old friend Ketsu. In Keldabe, Sabine had learned Ketsu had been registered with the bounty hunters guild, but she hadn’t taken a puck in some time - nearly as long as Sabine had been partnered with Sasha. Sabine left a message with the Onyo family on Shukut, but she knew it was exceedingly unlikely that there would be any reply. 

A few weeks later, Sabine had confirmation that Ketsu was traveling with the Ghost. While Sabine had always before been able to separate her work from her emotions, it was harder once she knew Ketsu was on the rebel ship she was tasked with capturing. Ketsu had been her best friend in the academy, her best friend - period - until she’d grown close with Sasha, and got him to open up to her. 

The hurt of Ketsu’s silent departure had been one thing. Finding out Ketsu was actively fighting the Empire - it didn’t hurt worse. But it added a different sort of hurt, and Sabine couldn’t help but take the Ghost’s actions a little more personally after that. Especially when the damned ship kept evading every trap she and Sasha set. 

That night, Sasha knocked at her hatch, and for the first time, spent the night in Sabine’s bunk. While they’d pulled all nighters working investigations before, taking turns on the cot in their shared office, it felt different like this. In the dark, with only Sasha to hear her, they could talk quietly without fear of being overheard, like they had on Krownest.

"I didn't expect it to hurt, knowing for sure that Ketsu was a rebel," Sabine admitted. "I knew there was a possibility. And I had a strong suspicion, almost from the first time we saw her with the Ghost." 

"It doesn't make you a bad person," Sasha assured Sabine, "being angry with her."

"I know that. But I shouldn't feel so betrayed by the fact that she saw a different path for herself than I saw for myself," Sabine said. "I'm more angry that I didn't anticipate this. My loyalty has always been primarily to my family, and she - she would understand that. But I'm not sure she sees it the same way I do. Doing my duty to the Empire - yes, it helps keep order in the galaxy. But it also keeps my family safe. My job as an Agent reflects well on them, just as Tristan's position as an Imperial Super Commando does. It means my parents are safe."

"I'm not going to argue that," Sasha said, rubbing her back. "I imagine her family will be subject to some scrutiny now that we've confirmed she's running with a crew of suspected rebels."

"I don't want to hurt her," Sabine said softly. "I know I should just accept she's an enemy now, and move on. But I don't want her hurt."

"Of course you don't," Sasha easily accepted. "No matter what else she's become, she was your friend, and you clearly trusted her. Just because she's betrayed your trust, doesn't mean you stop caring about someone." Sasha hugged her gently, and she clung to him, drawing strength from his steady presence. "Do you want to talk about her?" Sasha asked, and Sabine silently shook her head. That night, Sabine fell asleep curled against Sasha’s broad chest, comforted to be safe with a member of her family.

The feeling of it being personal only deepened months later when Sabine learned Ketsu had gone to Concord Dawn, and with the help of the Ghost's Jedi, abducted Protector Rau. Sabine might not know Rau well, but she respected the man, and knew that Sasha did too. Rau was an honourable warrior, and a superb pilot with an excellent service record. That he’d been taken, held hostage so the Protectors would allow rebel traffic through Mandalorian space - it didn’t sit well with her. She was still stewing over it when she and Sasha were separated over Geonosis.

Only after she’d returned to the ship and made her required reports did Sabine allow herself to worry about being separated from her partner. She should have heard from Sasha by then. She knew she should have argued harder about the division of labour. He’d become borderline obsessed with capturing the Ghost. When no word came, Sabine had to accept that something had gone wrong, even beyond the usual when dealing with the Ghost. They’d both acquired their fair share of injuries since arriving in the Lothal sector, but this was something else. 

Using Sasha’s codes, Sabine requisitioned a squad of stormtroopers and secured the use of a shuttle. A few hours later, she exited hyperspace back over Geonosis, her sensornet spread wide. If the rebels were still in the area, she would be a sitting duck. She had more important concerns than the Ghost at the moment. She needed to find her brother. 

A weak transponder signal, set so anyone could pick it up, pinged across the sensors. It could be a trap. Sabine couldn’t quite bring herself to care. Finding and retrieving Sasha was her priority, and if that ping came from him, she'd do all she could to recover him. She overflew the coordinates once, and easily saw where a larger ship - a ship the size of the Ghost, and with the same arrangement in the placement of the landing struts - had set down. She landed the shuttle regardless, and jetted out in advance of the stormtroopers. 

Sabine found Sasha dusted with windblown snow and pale as ice, his fingers and ears gone blue with cold. His breath had iced around his mouth and nose, and his eyes were frosted shut. He was breathing - slow and shallow, but breathing. She let out a quiet sob as her gaze settled lower, on the wide pool of crimson spreading around his thigh. The bo-rifle strapped to his leg indicated a fractured bone, and the make-shift belt tourniquet just below his hip hinted that someone from the other ship had at least tried to save his life, before abandoning him to the lethal cold. Fumbling through her utility belt, Sabine pulled out a tourniquet rather than fight with his half-frozen belt, and rolled him. 

Sasha groaned softly, but didn’t wake even as Sabine manipulated his injured leg. She felt along the bones carefully, finding both the break and where the bone had pierced the skin. Setting the tourniquet, she went through her emergency kit again. Shortly, she had him under a foil blanket, and a flare sent it up. She knew she couldn’t lift Sasha by herself, and would need the troopers to get him back to the shuttle.

A day later, Sabine looked up as she heard the steady beat of the pulse monitor change. Reaching down, she grabbed hold of Sasha’s hand. He woke suddenly, as she had expected, going still and tense, the monitor shrilling at the racing of his heart. 

"Sasha, Sasha, gar morut’yc, gar morut’yc," Sabine reassured before switching back to Basic, not sure it he was aware enough for a conversation in Mando’a. "You’re in a med center, you’re safe now." She tried not to remember how she’d found him, so still and pale in the snow, a pool of blood spreading dark red around his leg, the bo-rifle at his side and large, unshod footprints - Lasat footprints - in the snow nearly obscured by the wind. She’d nearly been too late. 

"Sabine," Sasha rasped. 

"I’m here," Sabine promised, and slowly, his pulse slowed to resting, his body relaxing back into the bed. "I need you to stay calm for me ori’vod," she said, and his amber eyes pinned her in place. 

"That bad?"

"You nearly died Alexsandr. Another few hours and you would have slipped away in the snow. As it is," Sabine choked back a sob. Sasha squeezed her hand weakly, and she leaned forward, hiding her face in his chest. "They took your leg above the knee Sasha," she managed to get out. "The blood loss and cold - it had been too long, and it was - it was your - your leg or your life." 

"I’m sorry you had to make that decision vod’ika," Sasha said gently. He shifted, laying his hand carefully on her back. "I’m sorry to have worried you." Sabine almost rolled her eyes at that. How like him, to take responsibility for something that was outside his control.

"I always worry about you," Sabine reminded, then took a deep breath, hoping to steady her voice. "I know you have an obsession with catching the Ghost - but Sasha - it stops. It _has_ to stop." 

Sasha was very still for a long moment, and then he closed his eyes and nodded, accepting her demand. They both knew that they would still be tasked professionally with the Ghost. But no more dangerous traps. No more putting themselves on the line if they could do it another way. Relief flooded Sabine at Sasha’s silent promise, and she pressed her face against his chest a little longer, reassuring herself with the steady thump of his heartbeat.

"Something’s up," Sabine said simply a few weeks after Sasha’s return. He had been quieter since his release from medbay, more secretive. At first, Sabine assumed it was pain and exhaustion as he acclimated to his prosthetic, trying not to show weakness around others. She had understood that impulse and let it slide, assuming he would only get stubborn if she pushed him to talk. But she wasn’t so sure anymore. Something else was going on.

Sasha glanced over at her, and she could see the indecision in his expression. He trusted her, she knew that. Which meant whatever he wasn’t telling her - it would likely put her in danger - not something Sasha would want to do. He took overprotective to whole new levels since they’d grown closer. 

"Jorhaa’ir," Sabine insisted. Sasha sighed. He had trained her well, and knew that if he didn’t talk to her now, she’d just wheedle it out of him later. 

"Nu ru'cuyir solus bat Bahryn," Sasha said quietly. In the time since his visit to Krownest, he’d become quite good at Mando’a, and they found it useful to speak something other than Basic at times. 

"Ni ru’mirdir ibac," Sabine said wryly. "Ciryc ru'kyr'amur gar meh ru'cuy'gar solus." Sasha snorted. It was the truth, but it seemed most weren’t clever enough to realize that, even if it was rather obvious.

"I was stranded with the Lasat," Sasha said, switching to Basic. 

"Orrelios?" Sabine guessed, because she had seen the landing footprint of the Ghost in the snow, and Orrelios' tracks. 

"Garazeb Orrelios. You know how badly I was injured, he could have killed or captured me easily," Sasha said, and Sabine nodded, despite that she saw it a bit differently.

Orrelios had left him injured and alone in the cold. Had left him for dead. Sabine could admit that there hadn't been many options - and she _was_ glad that Orrelios hadn't killed Sasha out of hand. Given their history, it was definitely a possible outcome. She was glad too, that Sasha hadn't been taken captive; she knew that as with the rescue she'd already staged, she'd have had to work alone to retrieve Sasha, and with limited supplies. So perhaps, half dead in the snow really had been the best outcome for Sasha. That didn't mean she had to like it. 

"Instead, he saved my life," Sasha continued. "He - he made me face that there are - there are questions I haven’t allowed myself to ask," Sasha said, then paused, taking a deep breath. 

Sabine's mind raced. Unasked questions were dangerous. Unasked questions - and the unwelcome answers extrapolated for them - were what led to her destroying her prototype at the academy. While that had worked out well for her so far, a change of equal degree in Sasha's life - and in hers, because she wasn't going to let him do whatever this was alone - would be just as paradigm shifting as her decision to scuttle her possible career in weapons development. 

"I know I can be ruthless. Amoral," Sasha said finally. 

"A bastard." 

"That too," Sasha returned with a bit of a smile that didn't touch his eyes. "But I have always understood that if I wanted to survive - if I wanted to gain any sort of control over my own destiny, it was better to keep my head down and my mouth closed. That doesn't mean I'm blind. Whatever happened on Geonosis - it was an atrocity Sabine, on a scale larger even than what I participated in on Lasan. I know they were building something - something big. All those abandoned construction gantries - and the Geonosians, they were - enslaved, then exterminated when they were no longer of use to the Empire." 

Sabine nodded. Sasha's willingness to set aside his morals - and Sabine knew he had them - had served the Empire well. But she knew he had nightmares about Lasan, and the other atrocities he had seen and participated in as an agent of the Empire. She also knew he had done his best to ensure that that sort of mission never landed in front of her. 

"I never told you, why I caused so much trouble in the academy on Mandalore," Sabine said quietly after a long, thoughtful silence. If Sasha was starting to ask questions, he deserved to know that she had long ago started to question the Empire - and her place in it. Sasha looked up, clearly catching from her tone that this was important - possibly more important than anything else they’d discussed before. 

"They were designing a weapon - _I_ was designing a weapon," Sabine said, the first time she'd fully admitted it aloud. "A weapon that specifically targeted Mando’ade. That used our beskar’gam - our heritage - against us. I - I realized what it could do if my theories ever made it from the prototype to a functional weapon. I - I acted up so I would be discredited. So my work would be questioned. And then I sabotaged it. I made sure that - that _abomination_ could never be used against my people." She paused, snorting softly. "I can never thank you enough. You pulled out of there at just the right time. I was thinking about defecting, going over to the Rebels." 

"Aren’t we a pair," Sasha sighed, and Sabine let out a low, wounded laugh. 

"We are," Sabine said, relaxing against Sasha’s side as he laid his arm over her shoulders. "A pair. If you’re doing this Sasha, I’m in. We’re best together, covering one another. And our joint investigations are always the most damning." Sasha grinned at that, knowing better than to try and dissuade her when she infused her voice with that steely tone. 

"Alright then," Sasha said. "First, we try and figure out what in the seven hells happened on Geonosis." 

"Whatever happened there can't be our first priority," Sabine corrected. "First we figure out how to safely pass information to your fuzzy friend." Sasha huffed, then shrugged. So he’d skipped a step or two. While he’d learned patience, it was very much an acquired skill rather than an innate trait for him. 

"That too," Sasha said, and quietly, they began to plan. 

* * *

Getting information out - troop movements, supply shipment schedules, comm frequencies, encryption keys - was the priority, they agreed. They wanted to know the truth about other things too, but their first order of business was establishing contact, then establishing their credentials. Sasha’s level of clearance meant they had access to more information than they really knew quite what to do with. It also meant they had to be very careful covering their tracks. 

Defectors were harshly dealt with, but the higher the rank, the more grisly the punishment became if they were caught. A common soldier’s defection earned them a swift but simple death. Someone like Sasha would be tortured until he broke or died of the damage. It wouldn’t go much better for Sabine if she was caught. 

Carefully, they changed orders where they could, and passed information. The first few times were the most harrowing, uncertain if their information would even make its way to the rebels, or if they would be discovered. But then a quiet investigation led them to an informant, and eventually, to a statuesque Togruta Sasha recognized on sight. He respectfully dipped his head, eyes not leaving her form. 

"Commander," Sasha greeted, keeping her name safe behind his teeth. Even her former rank was probably a dangerous thing to acknowledge, but his first oaths had been to the Republic, and she had been a superior officer, even if she was outside his chain of command. He still remembered his disbelief when she had been accused of treason, his relief when she was vindicated. His mistrust of Tarkin still lingered, despite that more than a decade had passed. 

"Fleet?" the Togruta questioned, recognizing something in the way he carried himself, and Sasha dipped his head in confirmation. 

"Briefly. I mustered into the Home Fleet just before the Battle of Coruscant." 

"Sasha?" Sabine asked almost inaudibly. The Togruta dipped her head, the corner of her mouth quirking. 

"Vod’ika, ibic Al’verde be 501st, Grand Army of the Republic," Sasha introduced quietly, knowing Sabine knew her history well enough to understand who that meant: Ahsoka Tano, former Jedi. 

"Suvarir Mando’a?" Tano asked just as quietly, blue eyes bright. Sabine and Sasha nodded in unison. 

"Ibic Sabine Wren," Sasha said. "Ner gai Alexsandr Kallus, kaysh ori’vod." 

"Be kyr’tsad?" Tano asked, eyes focusing sharply on Sabine. 

Sabine shook her head, the knowledge that Togruta were predators rising sharply out of her memory. Her parents and the rest of Clan Wren might be loyal to Death Watch, but Sabine no longer gave her own allegiance to that faction - they had become as bad as the Empire, if not worse. Knowing this woman had been Jedi, Sabine could understand her reluctance to trust someone with potential ties to Death Watch. The more fanatical members of the faction had hunted Jedi for sport, and if Sabine remembered correctly, Commander Tano had fought alongside the Nite Owls against Death Watch during the Siege. With her head turned to the side, Sabine spat emphatically. Tano grinned, accepting that. 

"Olarum," Tano said, and Sasha and Sabine relaxed markedly. 

"Meg liser mhi gaa'taylir?" Sabine asked, and Tano’s smile widened, showing off a pair of impressive incisors that clearly marked her as a carnivore. 

"You may also know me as Fulcrum," Tano said, shifting to Basic, and had the pleasure of seeing both ISB agents’ eyes going wide. "I can’t pretend I’m glad you’ve heard of me, but that you have certainly makes the explanation easier. I’m trying to turn Fulcrum into an information network. I can’t be everywhere. That’s where you would come in." Sabine and Sasha nodded almost in unison. 

"We’re in," Sabine and Sasha said in complete synchronicity, and Fulcrum’s smile went positively feral. 

"So here’s how it will work," Tano began, and told them all the myriad ways she had used to pass information to those organizing the Rebellion. While she didn’t give them ideas of actual numbers, or tell them the names of who was in charge, it was clear that the Rebellion was larger and better organized than Sasha and Sabine had suspected. The Ghost represented just one small cell. 

Sasha, who had been indoctrinated into loyalty to the Empire for far longer, couldn’t help but be a bit conflicted as they undertook their first official missions as Fulcrum’s agents. The Lothal rebel cell seemed to mostly steal and sabotage, they were responsible for very few deaths. But he also remembered the partisans on Onderon, slaughtering injured and surrendered combatants. Like the Empire, the Rebellion likely ran the gamut between people doing what they thought was right, and those out for violent vengeance. 

Sabine had never been quite as ruthlessly loyal to the Empire as Sasha. She knew part of it was because she had other support to fall back on. Sasha hadn’t. When he’d been asked to choose between a friend and the Empire before, his loyalty to the Empire had won out. Now, Sabine knew without even having to ask, that even before she went AWOL to retrieve him from that icy moon, Sasha would have put her well being ahead of the good of the Empire. She had become his family, and he’d defend that to the death. Mandokarla, her brother. 

“What would you have done?” Sabine asked a few weeks after they met Tano. “If you had been wrong, and I had tried to report you after Bahryn?” 

Sasha scoffed softly. “I cannot imagine a universe where you would choose duty to the Empire over love of your family,” Sasha said fondly. “I simply understand myself lucky to be counted among your family.” 

Sabine smiled over at him. “Acceptable answer, but you know what I mean,” she said, and Sasha nodded. 

“If I had trusted you enough to tell you I was wavering, and you betrayed that trust?” Sasha said, tilting his head slightly. His eyes hardened. “I would have done my level best to kill you and arrange things so it looked like you were a traitor,” he said, and Sabine nodded. She wasn’t too surprised; in that situation, self defense would mean not only the preservation of one's own life, but also the deflection of any possible suspicion. She'd always known that Sasha could be ruthless when it suited him. It pleased her, in a way, knowing that he had never hesitated to tell her of his loyalties for reasons of trust, only over her safety. 

* * *

For a few months, the two newly named Fulcrum agents sent massive amounts of data to the Rebellion. They did so carefully, but no amount of secrecy could truly disguise that the rebels had a new and very accurate source of information. ISB began issuing new directives on the handling of data, which they had to quietly work their way around. That slowed their spying slightly.

Their quiet rebellion stalled further when Grand Admiral Thrawn arrived in the sector with the Seventh Fleet, and they were assigned to serve aboard his flagship, the Chimaera. While neither Sabine nor Sasha had worked under Thrawn before, they knew his reputation. Their jobs as Fulcrum agents had just become much more dangerous and difficult. Governor Pryce’s insistence on ‘assisting’ Thrawn didn’t help either - another set of eyes overlooking their work greatly increased the chances of their exposure as rebel informants. 

"Mhi linibar dajun eyaytir," Sasha said quietly about a week after Thrawn arrived in Lothal sector. Sabine snorted, but nodded. 

That evening, Sabine let herself into Sasha’s spartan quarters. They planned for hours, quietly talking through numerous scenarios, including ones where they had to flee separately. Neither of them were certain they’d be accepted by rebel command - there hadn’t been any word from Tano in longer than usual, and they were beginning to suspect she’d perished. Her work and theirs wasn’t without its dangers. 

If Sabine had to flee alone, they had some hope she might be able to return to Krownest, at least briefly. Her family might be loyal to the regime, but she hoped they’d at least be willing to shelter her temporarily. She didn’t like the idea of putting them in danger, but she also didn’t want to bank on a warm welcome from the rebels. 

Sasha had enough experience as an undercover agent to disguise himself and go to ground if he was the one who had to leave alone. They both agreed it would be unfair and illogical to expect her parents to shield him, especially if they fled separately; her parents would assume that any relationship between them had ended. Sasha would have to rely on his wits, and as the more highly ranked of them, they hoped he might be too valuable for the rebels to execute outright if he had to defect. 

Hashing out possibilities meant more sleepovers - usually in Sabine's bunk since she'd made slightly more effort to personalize her space, make it comfortable. Sasha's only personal belongings were the glowing meteorite he'd acquired on Bahryn, his bo-rifle, and the dagger Sabine had given him. He'd left all his new clothes back on Krownest, not seeing any reason to bring civilian gear with him to his duty post. 

While discussing next steps was their main intent, they didn't only discuss the future. They discussed history too - often the many wars between Mandalore and the Republic, but other periods too. Sometimes, Sabine could get Sasha to talk about his service during the war with the Separatists, and the clones he had served alongside. They were getting to be a very rare sight in Imperial service, most drummed out as their accelerated aging cascaded into infirmity. Other nights, their conversations turned philosophical. 

“You’re not a bad person, you know,” Sabine said one night when Sasha was being maudlin. They'd had to stand by, and watch as the Empire's war machine worked people to death on Lothal. He let out a low, unhappy scoff. 

“But not a good one, either,” Sasha replied heavily. Sabine paused, glancing over. Their path as rebel informants was a difficult one. They knew that the Empire was evil, and must be stopped, and yet their survival depended on them being visibly loyal to the regime, competent and diligent in their duties. 

“Good, bad, that’s defined by our actions,” Sabine said carefully. “I have to believe our actions haven’t always been entirely our own.” 

“Just following orders isn’t a justifiable excuse,” Sasha said. “In the old codes of military justice, defying an unlawful order was not only a moral imperative, but your duty to the Republic.” 

Sabine nodded, because that fit what she understood of the Republic, and of pre-Imperial Mandalore too. “But if you had defied the first unjust order you were given, you’d be dead, and of no use to the Rebellion or anyone else,” Sabine said, then shrugged. “I wish I knew the answer. I’d sleep a lot better myself. A good deed doesn’t erase an evil one. But it must act as a - a counterweight in our souls, something, otherwise there’d be no point to any of it.” 

Sasha sighed at that, and turned their discussion back to the safer places they might go to ground when they had to defect from Imperial service. 

Their discussions ended up being timely - almost prescient. When they heard shortly after that conversation that there might be pilots wishing to defect from Skystrike Academy, they contacted the Rebellion to extract the cadets. 

Sabine went undercover into the academy, taking advantage of the fact that she was within a few years of age to most of the pilots, and easily able to disguise herself as one of them to determine how many would need to be extracted. She and Sasha were in constant communication, but when push came to shove, Sabine had to flee without Sasha, although not exactly alone - the other pilots were on her wings. Sasha was just glad they’d thought to disable the kill switches on the TIE fighters when Pryce tried to detach the solar collectors and leave Sabine and the young pilots stranded in space. 

As she climbed out of the TIE and into the hangar of a rebel battlestation, Sabine kept her hands high, wishing she had her own armour on, not just a pilot’s flight suit. Unfortunately her beskar’gam was still in her quarters back on the Chimaera, where she had Sasha had been stationed since Thrawn took over the sector. She knew Sasha would try to arrange something, but she was still uncomfortable being so vulnerable. 

"You," a familiar and accusatory voice greeted as Sabine pulled off her helmet, and Sabine turned, smiling wryly at her old friend. 

"Hello Ketsu, you’re looking well," Sabine greeted. It was the truth - it seemed rebellion suited Ketsu. Her hair was still worn in the Mando style, shaved down on the sides and back and longer on top, and her violet eyes gleamed. She was still one of the most beautiful people Sabine had ever met, and Sabine wasn't sure they'd ever be able to trust one another again. 

"Imperial dog," Ketsu growled. 

"Wrong," Sabine said firmly, although she was mildly amused at the epithet. _Keyn_ was the common Imperial slang for an ISB field agent, after the coursing canid predators of the Gontzol system. Sabine had even painted a stylized canine on one of her pauldrons, her signature starbird on the other, both in black gloss against the matte black of the rest of her armour. She raised her chin, swinging her short dark hair back from her face. "By the light of Lothal’s moons," she said, still smiling slightly. "I _am_ glad to see you." 

"Wait, I thought Kallus was Fulcrum?" Bridger demanded, staring at the two Mandalorians. 

"Agent Kallus and I are a team," Sabine said firmly. Now that they were separated, she didn’t want there to be any question - any suspicion - that would decrease the efficacy of the information Sasha was able to send, or negatively impact her own potential position in the Rebellion. "I have been Fulcrum just as long as he has, working together, covering for one another, protecting one another." 

"That’s nice, tell it to command," Ketsu said, grabbing Sabine’s arms and roughly securing them behind her back. Sabine rolled her eyes, but didn’t fight, despite that she could break the hold easily if she wished. Instead of bringing her to command, she was brought to a small shuttle, and transferred to a cell on a light corvette. Glancing across the corridor, she smiled tightly, recognizing the other prisoner. 

"Su cuy'gar, Cabur Rau," Sabine called in greeting, and across the hall, Fenn Rau, the Protector of Concord Dawn looked up. His armour had been taken, and he was built smaller and lighter than Sabine had expected, but he looked strong and resolute still, mandokarla. His pale eyes were fierce, as was his expression before he recognized her. 

"Agent Wren," Fenn Rau returned with a note of surprise. "I’m a bit surprised to see you here," he admitted in Mando’a accented Basic, eyes flitting to Sabine’s retreating escort. Sabine smiled wryly. She had a bit of a reputation as someone who refused to surrender or abandon a chase, and she was rather proud of that. 

"And I’m a bit surprised to see you here," Sabine said, understanding Rau’s silent warning that Mando’a wouldn’t be permitted here, at least not between two prisoners. She supposed she could understand - likely Ketsu was the only one around who spoke their cradle-tongue, and if they persisted in speaking Mando’a, they’d become suspicious. "We’d figured out you were probably with the Rebellion - and probably against your will - but I would have thought they’d need a deeper hole to keep you in." Rau let out a soft chuckle at that. 

"Compliance makes things easier," Rau said with a shrug that did nothing to disguise his dissatisfaction. 

"They would harm the Protectors?" Sabine asked, a bit suspicious at the implication. She had hoped that despite Sasha’s hesitations, the Rebellion was better than that sort of tactics. 

"Not so long as I’m cooperative and my orders are that the Protectors allow rebel traffic through Mando space," Rau said with a grimace. 

"And the Viceroy?" 

"So far they’ve managed not to attract his attention." 

"That can only last so long, and we both know Saxon won’t allow the rebels to continue bypassing Concord Dawn with impunity." 

"I know. But what else can I do from here? I rot in this cell and pray to the Ka’ra, but who knows if the ancestors are listening. And you? What brings you here Agent Wren? I would have thought you were the type to die before admitting defeat." 

Sabine smiled slightly at Rau’s needling. Definitely mandokarla. She thought about his question. Sabine had wondered, at first, if she would have taken this path if not for Sasha. But the past was the past. And she had always been inclined to ask questions that no one wanted answered. Maybe she wouldn’t have become Fulcrum without Sasha, but she probably would have defected eventually. With the benefit of hindsight, it was easy to see that she could only have worn the Imperial yoke for so long. 

"The trouble with being an investigator, is sometimes you don’t like where your questions lead you," Sabine said with a wry quirk of the mouth. "I’ve been a rebel informant for nearly a year now, not that Ketsu believes me. Eventually they’ll have to bring me in front of command, and it’ll get straightened out. I’ll just have to be patient until then." 

"Your parents?" Rau asked. 

"Don’t know," Sabine said, shaking her head. "They’ll find out soon enough. If things go to plan, Sasha will be sending them my things and a message that if they see me, they should call him first and he’ll retrieve me himself." 

"Sasha?" Rau asked, clearly not knowing who she meant. 

"Agent Kallus, the big blond who was with me at Krownest." 

"Your fiance?" 

"He’s not actually my fiance, we just let my mother think that so she doesn’t try and arrange my personal life," Sabine said with a grin, and Rau chuckled softly in response, knowing Ursa Wren’s reputation as a bit of a meddler, and remembering the banquet to which he’d been invited, where a betrothal had been heavily insinuated, but never outright announced. He'd spoken that night with Sasha, Sabine knew. "But yes. He’s also a rebel informant. He only needs his gai bal manda to make him my brother in name as well as feeling." 

Rau whistled softly at that, understanding the strength of such a relationship. His posture softened slightly as he decided to grant Sabine the benefit of the doubt. As if summoned by Sabine’s confident assertion that she’d be interviewed, the Jedi and Ketsu soon reappeared. Sabine smiled coolly at them, then dipped her head respectfully at the other prisoner. 

"Jate’kara, Cabur Rau," Sabine said, and he dipped his head in return, a thoughtful look on his face. 

Sabine followed Ketsu up to an interview room. It took a little while, but after a few hours of detailed debriefing, Commander Sato welcomed Sabine to the Rebellion. She was warned she’d be on probation for some time, then assigned a bunk. 

"So you’re Kallus’ little sister huh?" the Lasat asked when he escorted her through the ship, and Sabine chuckled softly. 

"Sasha mentioned me?" Sabine asked, not entirely surprised. Sasha had told her that he and Orrelios had talked on Bahryn, but she hadn’t pressed him for a detailed debrief. At the time, she’d been more concerned with helping him acclimate to his prosthetic and figuring out how to safely pass data out to the rebels. 

"Sasha huh? Yeah. We uh - talked a lot on Bahryn." 

"He mentioned," Sabine said. "I - I want to thank you. For talking to him, for helping him. I’d made some chinks in his armour, but - I think it helped him, to hear some things from someone he respected as a warrior - someone who _wasn’t_ his little sister. I’m in your debt Captain Orrelios." She'd come around, in time, to being grateful for Orrelios' presence on Bahryn, even if Sasha had ended up injured and half-frozen. After all, if the Lasat hadn't been there - hadn't been willing to work with Sasha - Sasha likely would have been killed. 

"Zeb," the Lasat insisted with a crooked smile. "He’s - not a bad guy." Sabine chuckled softly. 'Not a bad guy' was a bit damning with faint praise, but Sabine was well aware it wasn’t too far off the mark either. Sasha could be stubborn, ruthless, and volatile. But then again, so could she. 

"I think when he has the chance - I’m afraid he’ll do something magnificent," Sabine confessed. "The big idiot." 

* * *

For the next few weeks, Sabine was stuck on the corvette, her every movement shadowed. It was a valid precaution, if annoying. She ended up spending most of her days in the detention block, playing cu’bikad with Rau and talking with him about the philosophy of war and the fate of their people. Occasionally Ketsu would come and talk to her, but those conversations were invariably awkward, and Sabine wasn’t sure how to repair their broken friendship. 

In some ways, the lack of any previous relationship between her and the Protector helped them form a respectful friendship based on their common heritage. It helped too that she wasn’t a rabid Death Watch supporter, and was willing to debate with him about the best course forward for Mandalore and her people. They were soon on a fairly comfortable first name basis, although since Fenn was still a hostage, not a full fledged supporter of the Rebellion, there was still a bit of distance to go before they fully trusted one another. Sabine did what she could to improve his situation, but she still had to be a bit careful herself - her status as a defector didn’t win her many friends, even if her knowledge of Imperial protocol and procedures was invaluable. 

Despite the quiet hostility from some members of the Rebellion, Sabine also fell into a fairly easy friendship with Zeb. The Lasat was always eager to hear her tell stories about Sasha. Fenn didn’t seem to mind that either, and Sabine was happy to brag on her chosen brother. Hopefully, it would make things easier for Sasha when he could finally escape the Empire. 

Given the somewhat precarious nature of her position in the Rebellion, Sabine was a little surprised when she was summoned to a briefing with Fenn a few months after her arrival, and they were told that the Protectors had gone quiet. The rebels were worried that their next ships to traverse the lanes near Concord Dawn would be going into a trap. Fenn vouched for his followers, as Sabine had expected he would. And he likely wasn’t wrong - the Protectors were a fiercely loyal group. 

"I’m more worried something’s happened to the Protectors," Sabine said when the others looked to her, backing Fenn’s position on the matter. She couldn’t imagine they would do anything that might imperil their commander, and they certainly understood that so long as Fenn was a hostage to the Rebellion, they had to allow rebel traffic through the sector. 

Rather to her surprise, Sabine was allowed to accompany the mission to Concord Dawn. She wasn’t restrained as Fenn was, but neither of them were permitted weapons, nor armour. She watched both Fenn and the others as they approached Concord Dawn, and when Fenn reached for Bridger’s blaster, she silently shook her head. 

"Wait," Sabine signed in gaanjorhaa, the Mando sign language. Fenn’s entire body conveyed his annoyance, but he couldn’t sign back with his hands bound. Sabine reached out, placing her hand on his. Fenn stilled, and she drew her hands back. "They recon," Sabine signed, "wait." Fenn sighed, but nodded, shifting back against the bench running along the side of the small shuttle. They landed, and with blasters at their backs, Sabine and Fenn exited the ship. 

The air was heavy with smoke, and Sabine knew that whatever they found, it wouldn’t be good. Silently they went up the ridge, and Sabine couldn’t help but reach out as her breath left her in a sharp exhale, giving Fenn her support as they overlooked the destruction below. While the Protectors had clearly fought for their lives, it was equally clear that they had been massacred. 

"Fenn," Sabine said in a quiet, choked voice, and Fenn shook his head, face grim. He led the way down the slope, sliding a bit awkwardly on the scree with his hands still bound. 

"Gar Saxon," Fenn said firmly, bending and picking up a pale helmet. His anger was visible in the way he stood, the flatness of his voice. Sabine recognized the helmet he held instantly. It was, as Fenn claimed, the uniform helmet worn by the Imperial Super Commandos that served as Saxon’s strongarm in the sector. That was where Fenn placed the blame, where it belonged. Sabine thought it likely that didn’t make the pain of the Protectors’ deaths any easier to bear. 

"He’ll be monitoring the area," Sabine guessed. "Watching who comes to see why the outpost has gone dark." Fenn nodded, looking to Ketsu and Bridger, the rebel members of the mission. Sabine didn’t feel she knew him well enough to guess what he might be thinking, but based on his earlier actions, it might not bode well for the others. She didn’t want to fight him. But she understood his desire to avenge the other Protectors. 

"Someone is coming," Bridger called. "Flying stormtroopers?" 

"Haar’chak, that was quick," Sabine swore. Fenn nodded grimly. From there, the mission went to hell, the tangle of their loyalties keeping them from working together efficiently. 

When it was all over, Sabine found herself with a new jetpack and a solid bond of trust with Fenn. They had fought well at one another’s sides, and she understood his reservations about both the Empire and Rebellion. In many ways, Sabine agreed with him - the best path for Mandalore was freedom. She was certain, and Fenn was beginning to accept, that the only way for Mandalore to reclaim that independence was through alliance with the Rebels. 

"Word from Fulcrum," Zeb called to them when they returned, and Sabine raced ahead. Even though she couldn’t actually hear Sasha’s voice in the transmission, the scrambler disguising his accent and tones, she was certain it was him feeding them information this time. The cadence of his words, the words he used, even the type of information. She smiled broadly, closing her eyes. In her mind she could see him, speaking surely into the transmitter, the slight frown that would draw down his eyebrows, the worry that tensed his mouth. 

The message paused, and Sabine expected it to cut off. Sasha had relayed good, actionable intelligence. The comm stayed on, relaying a few moments of static, and then an audible sigh. 

"Fulcrum," Sasha said across the parsecs, and Sabine went on full alert. "Vod’ika-" there was another sigh, and then he relayed in halting Mando’a that her father was now a hostage of Viceroy Saxon, that her mother had proclaimed her an exile. Sabine let out a soft gasp of pain, steadying slightly when Fenn gripped her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Ni ceta," Sasha said, and even with the scrambler, she could hear the pain in his voice, his self hatred for having caused this distance between her and the rest of her - their - clan. 

"You idiot," Sabine breathed. "Don’t you _dare_ take this on yourself." She knew he would. Sasha had a special talent for blaming himself for things that were beyond his control. 

"What did he say?" Bridger asked curiously. Fenn squeezed her shoulder again in silent support. 

"Her father’s been arrested, and Sabine is officially exiled from her clan," Fenn explained gruffly. "She cannot go home." 

"Oh," Bridger said, more subdued. Sabine didn’t know the teen well, but she’d already picked up that his parents had been very good to him, had done all they could to protect him. He’d had a good life with them, cut short too soon, and even after his years of hardship living on the streets, Bridger didn’t always understand that some families were more complex. Sabine knew that in a way, her mother was only exiling her to protect the family, to protect her brother. That didn’t ease the hurt much. 

"Are you really surprised?" Ketsu asked. "Your parents are loyalists Sabine, they were Death Watch even before the Empire came." 

"I’m not surprised," Sabine ground out. "They were proud of me when I went to the academy, when Tristan was selected as an Imperial Super Commando. I know you’ve been exiled too, don’t pretend it doesn’t sting, just because you knew it would happen." Ketsu dipped her head, looking away. Sabine sighed. She hadn’t meant to hurt Ketsu, but the hurt she felt - and Sasha wasn’t here either, wasn’t able to wrap her up and promise he’d make it all okay. 

"Sabine?" Fenn asked gently. 

"I miss him," Sabine said just as quietly. "Sasha’s my brother, and he - I miss him so much Fenn," she admitted. Fenn squeezed her shoulder again in quiet support. 

"I’ll look out for you ad’ika," Fenn promised. "Oya manda." 

"Oya manda," Sabine returned with a small smile. It wasn’t the same, not even close. But he was a friend. And Zeb - Zeb was something like a friend too, someone she knew also had Sasha’s respect, and who respected Sasha in turn. It would have to do until the big idiot got himself out and safe. 

* * *

The next months, Sabine lived for word from Fulcrum. It wasn’t always Sasha, and even when it was, he didn’t always close with a personal message. He slipped a few in, telling her that he’d sent her things to Krownest before her exile was announced, that he’d directed her mother to contact him first if Sabine defied her exile and went home. 

"Big idiot," Sabine said fondly at that message, and Bridger looked over in question. "He’s protecting me," Sabine explained with a smile. "We had it all planned out, what we’d do if one of us had to get out before the other. There’s not much he can do without endangering himself, but if my mother contacts Sasha before Gar Saxon, there’s a chance he can warn me, get me safe before Saxon tries to arrest me. He’d likely show up and stage a show arrest, then let me knock him out and escape." 

"He’d really do that for you?" Bridger asked somewhat skeptically. 

"Sasha’s my big brother," Sabine said confidently, "he’d do anything for me." 

As if to prove the point, one of the supply shipments Sasha arranged for them to raid included a crate that held all of Sabine’s personal gear, including her beskar’gam. It held some of Sasha’s personal items as well - the meteorite that had saved his life on Bahryn, the beskar knife Sabine had given him, even his treasured bo-rifle. Sabine wasn’t sure how he’d arranged it, she’d thought her belongings already on Krownest, but she wasn’t going to quibble too much when she had her armour and preferred weapons back. 

"Something’s wrong, isn’t it?" Zeb asked, lifting the bo-rifle carefully, seeing how Sasha had modified the weapon. Sabine nodded grimly. 

"He’s getting ready to run," Sabine said. "This is pretty much everything that’s important to him. I honestly don’t know how he’ll explain some of it going missing." She pulled out a datapad and keyed it on, smiling grimly when she saw it included a series of text only files. She opened one and quickly scanned the Mando’a lettering, then smiled grimly. "He sent some of Thrawn’s files," she said. "Let’s get back to base." Zeb whistled softly, and soon they were back at headquarters, Sabine helping intel go through the data that Sasha had sent. 

Sabine inspected her armour closely when she was able to return to quarters with the remainder of her and Sasha’s belongings. It was in perfect condition, as she’d half expected. She’d taught Sasha how to care for it, an act of such intimacy it was reserved for family members. She knew he’d done enough reading to understand that, and his excellent care of her armour only underlined that understanding. She’d need to re-do her paint job, Sabine decided, although parts of it still suited her - the pauldrons wouldn’t change much, but she intended to paint the Fulcrum symbol somewhere prominent, maybe on the chest, and since she didn’t have a limited palette of black, black, white, red, and more black, she could use a much brighter aesthetic. 

Satisfied with her armour’s condition, Sabine took up Sasha’s bo-rifle. He had taught her the care of the rare weapon in return, and so she inspected it as carefully as she had her own arms and armour. As she expected, it was in perfect condition. She meant to ensure it remained so until Sasha could reclaim it. 

* * *

In the end, Sabine wasn’t even with the main force of the Rebellion when Sasha made his final transmission as Fulcrum some months later. She was on Krownest, having taken custody of the Darksaber when Ketsu discarded the weapon, found on Dathomir with Ezra. Ketsu had never been one for the politicking within the clans, while Sabine as a scion of House Wren had been raised to navigate those perilous waters. The Darksaber - and the responsibility it represented - held no interest to Sabine beyond its ability to rally the clans behind a Mand’alor. And she thought she knew just the person for the job. It was just a matter of convincing Bo-Katan Kryze that Manda’yaim was hers, if she would only step up to claim it. 

_Thrawn knows_ , was all Sasha had managed to transmit, and then the message broke up. His voice was unscrambled, and Sabine could hear the tension, the fear in his distant tone when she finally listened to that last message. She had arrived hours later with Fenn and Clan Wren’s wing of Fang fighters in response to Ezra’s last ditch attempt to save his little family of rebels.

There was no word of Sasha after that, although from what Kanan said, on Atollon Thrawn had hinted strongly that he had captured Fulcrum himself. If that was so, Sabine knew that Sasha would be interrogated - tortured - until either he broke or it killed him. She tried to accept that he was dead. If Thrawn had him, death on his own terms was likely Sasha’s best option, and Sabine was well aware Sasha would rather die than lead Thrawn and the Empire to the Rebellion. That didn’t stop Sabine from hoping, even as she helped organize the Mando resistance, that Sasha lived. She repainted the keyn on her armour in grey and gold all the same, a public declaration of loss and pursuit of vengeance. 

When the chance came months later to hurt Thrawn - to steal Lothal out of his grasp and destroy one of his pet projects in the process - Sabine signed on without reservation. Thrawn had hurt her deeply. She would do her best to return the favour. 

To Sabine’s quiet pleasure, Fenn signed on as well. He’d taken his promise to watch over her in Sasha’s place seriously since Atollon, never straying far from her shoulder, even once Bo-Katan Kryze returned and threw what remained of Clan Kryze and the Nite Owls behind the Mando resistance. Bo-Katan might once have had Fenn’s admiration, and still had his loyalty as Mand'alor, but Sabine was the one who had been with him through the darkest nights after he lost his sworn siblings, who had sat with him and mourned with him, and he had mourned with her in turn. They were inextricably linked by their losses, and their desire for vengeance against the Empire. 

Sabine felt her decision to join the mission to Lothal more than justified when she stepped out of the kom’rk they’d snuck through the blockade, and there to meet them was not only the leader of the Lothal resistance, Ryder Azadi, but next to him in Death Trooper armour defaced with the Fulcrum symbol, was Sasha. 

From the way Sasha stood, all his weight on his good leg and balanced with a makeshift cane, his prosthetic was bothering him. Otherwise, Sasha looked good - his hair was a bit longer and worn loose nearly to his chin, his face open and relaxed. Abandoning protocol and anything like restraint, Sabine bounded forward, nearly toppling Sasha onto his back as she hugged him. Later she would have to ask Sasha how he escaped Thrawn - that Death Trooper armour likely hadn’t come cheap. 

"Ner vod’ika," Sasha greeted, soft and gruff, his hand clasping warmly on the back of her neck beneath her buy’ce. 

"Ori’vod," Sabine managed to choke out, then reached up, sweeping off her helmet so her tears wouldn’t fog the visor. 

"I take it you two know one another?" Azadi asked with a grin. 

"This is my little sister Sabine," Sasha said proudly, squeezing her nape gently as Sabine turned slightly to look at Azadi, her arm still slung around Sasha’s waist. "I see she’s brought half Clan Wren with her." 

"We weren’t going to sit this one out," Fenn chipped in, and Sabine looked back to narrow her eyes at his buy’ce. She just knew he was smirking. 

"I’m Sabine Wren of the Mando resistance, this is Protector Fenn Rau and our first squadron," Sabine introduced. "We’ve been collaborating with the Ghost and doing our part to get the Empire out of the Mando sector." 

"We’re glad to have you," Azadi said. "Alexsandr’s been a huge help to us." Sabine smiled broadly at that, pleased at the old man’s honest respect for her brother and his skills. 

"I’ve been worried about you," Sabine confessed that night, tucked against Sasha’s side. 

"I’d apologize, but keeping my survival and location as quiet as possible is probably the only reason I’m still alive," Sasha said, his voice hoarser than Sabine remembered. It was likely he’d permanently damaged his vocal cords, she realized. She’d known that was possible, but she’d never expected to hear it, not on Sasha at least. 

"Talk to me Sasha," Sabine insisted, and quietly, he told her how Thrawn had surprised him at the abandoned tower, how the Grand Admiral had thrashed him, then remanded him to the custody of his personal guard. That had been Thrawn’s mistake. The Death Troopers had split up, one accompanying Thrawn to the battle over Atollon, the other torturing Sasha in the comm tower before bringing him back to Capital City. It hadn’t been easy, but Sasha had overpowered the Death Trooper in transit, stolen his armour, and gone to ground on Lothal. Eventually he’d fallen in with the local resistance. 

Sabine was utterly unsurprised in some ways. Sasha had, from her first impression of him, been a hard man. His implacable nature had stood him in good stead as both an agent of the Empire and as an informant against it. It stood to reason that his unfailing stubbornness would be a benefit to the Rebellion in other ways too, once he could no longer operate behind enemy lines. 

"Your leg?" Sabine asked, tapping his thigh. Sasha grimaced at that. 

"Thrawn and his goon did some damage," Sasha admitted. "I can still fight." Sabine rolled her eyes at that. Of course he’d say he could still fight. There was a reason her family had so readily bought into the fiction of Sasha being her lover, and that reason was that he made a damn good Mando for having been raised outside the culture. 

"As soon as we get the Empire off Lothal-" 

"You’ll drag me into a medcenter, I know." 

"Alright then." 

Sasha smiled, tugging her in and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Sabine settled at his side, something in her easing at his presence. It wouldn’t be easy, she knew that and knew it well. But she had her brother with her, and knowing he was at her back would let her fight harder. 

* * *

Despite the enthusiasm of the planet-side rebel cell, and the boost that learning Sasha lived gave to Sabine, the liberation of Lothal wasn’t without incident. They nearly lost their Jedi, and Jarrus had to be relegated to a bacta tank for over a week, leading to more than a little scrambling as they reworked their plans. They nearly lost Bridger too, the younger Jedi only evacuating the Chimaera as the purrgil pulled the Star Destroyer into hyperspace. If he’d cut it any closer, he would have been trapped with Thrawn on a very long journey into the unknown. 

Sasha didn’t come through it unscathed either, and spent the first few hours after the Imperial dome was destroyed in medbay. Without the presence of the Clan Wren commandos, Sabine was pretty sure the whole thing would have fallen apart. Part of that, she knew, was pride in her people and their martial skill. But she thought she wasn’t too biased. After all, they had played an important role. 

It took a few hours after the fighting stopped before Sabine could get away. She made her way as quickly as she could to the medcenter where the rebel casualties had been brought. No one had contacted her yet about Sasha, and she was hoping that no news was good news. 

When she arrived, Sabine found Sasha in a crowded ward, clearly still in pain. He’d received basic first aid, but it looked like that was all. Before Sabine could hunt up someone to shout at, Sasha caught sight of her and gave a wan smile, beckoning her over. 

"You look like crap," Sabine greeted, and Sasha laughed quietly. 

"Probably," Sasha accepted. "There are others worse off. Even if there weren’t, they don’t really have the capabilities to give me the treatment I need." Sabine planted her fists on her hips, waiting. Sasha sighed. "The neural interface was damaged, when I was first captured," Sasha admitted. "I’ll need to have it replaced, and there’s enough damage on the prosthetic that I’ll need to replace that too." 

"You idiot," Sabine scolded. "You shouldn’t have fought on a damaged leg." Sasha looked away, silently disagreeing. Sabine sighed. "You are such a stereotypical bucket-head." Sasha smiled at that, taking the insult as a compliment. She sighed again. She should have known he’d be pleased by that. "Otherwise?"

"Leg hurts like hell, but that’s pretty much it," Sasha promised. "Everything else has either healed, or is well on its way." He drew a breath, looking up at Sabine expectantly. She sighed, and sat, telling him about the parts of the battle he’d missed when he could no longer fight on his damaged prosthetic. 

They visited for a while longer after that, Sasha asking after the rebels he had fought alongside since his escape from Thrawn, and the members of the Wren Clan who had come to their aid. He’d met many of them on his visit to Krownest, and gotten on well with them during this operation. Sabine was hopeful that it would help him find a place within the clan, once he could be properly adopted as part of their family. 

"I need to get back to my post," Sabine said eventually. "Let me make a few calls," she said, indicating Sasha’s leg. He hesitated, then nodded. She smiled slightly, and rose. A squeeze of Sasha’s hand, and she strode from the hospital, already preparing a mental script. She’d told her family, when they reunited, that she and Sasha had defied the Empire together. Now, she would have to call upon the perceived bond between them - her parents still thought Sasha was her fiance, and allowing them to think that a little longer might help ensure he got good medical treatment, quickly. 

Over the next few days, Sabine negotiated, pleaded, and outright begged. Finally, she secured the authorizations and promises necessary. She could sign Sasha out of the hospital in Lothal and bring him to Krownest. Her warlike people had long ago perfected the art of building sturdy replacement limbs, and she had confidence that he would receive the treatment he needed there. 

Even as she made the arrangements, Sabine ensured that she spent a few hours at Sasha’s side every day. She knew that Fenn and Zeb visited too, and their kindness to Sasha only endeared them both to her further. Sabine knew Sasha appreciated the visits - any company made the time move faster, and Fenn and Zeb were good company. 

"Oh good, you’re already here," Sabine greeted as she entered the medbay and found Fenn sitting with Sasha and playing cu’bikad. Much to her amusement, Fenn blushed, stealing a glance at Sasha. She hadn’t been certain whether Fenn admired Sasha on a purely intellectual level or in other ways. He’d always been happy to listen to her go on about Sasha, but that could have just been politeness and patience. It seemed there was more interest than she’d first suspected. "You can help me get his heavy shebs out of bed." 

"Where are you taking me?" Sasha asked somewhat warily, eyeing the hoverchair Sabine had pushed into the room with her. 

"Krownest," Sabine said with a broad smile. "Since the clan is in rebellion in support of Mand’alor Kryze, we can come and go as we please. Which means I can take you to a proper med center." 

"Sabine," Sasha started, sheer relief obvious in his voice. 

"Hey," Sabine said gently, resting her hand on his chest. "You don’t deserve to be in constant pain Sasha. They’ll be able to fix the neural interface, I promise. We’ll get you a properly fitted prosthetic, you’ll be able to fight again." Sasha’s hand silently covered hers on his chest, and he turned away, lifting his other hand to cover his tearing eyes. "Hey, hey, it’s okay," she promised, sitting beside him and leaning down, hugging him gently. "It’s going to be okay." Sasha cried quietly, as he had every time Sabine had seen him overcome. Those times had been few and far between. 

"You’ve - you’ve been in pain this whole time?" Fenn asked when Sasha had regained his composure, reaching out. Sasha grimaced, accepting Fenn’s hand and pulling himself up to sitting. He nodded, letting Sabine gently wipe away his tears. 

"Thrawn was - not above taking advantage of the knowledge that I wear a prosthetic, nor was the Death Trooper," Sasha said thickly, barely skimming the surface of what had been done to him when he was discovered as a Fulcrum agent. He’d been tortured for hours, Sabine knew, and was still haunted by the brutality of his treatment. "The neural interface was damaged, and pretty much the only time I _don’t_ feel it is when I’m unconscious." Fenn blinked, then shook his head silently before reaching out to cup Sasha’s cheek. 

"Ramikadyc," Fenn said appreciatively, voice a bit lower and huskier than usual. Sasha flushed, but didn’t shy from Fenn’s touch, or his admiring gaze. Sabine cleared her throat after a long moment, and they both awkwardly looked away from one another. She shook her head, but said nothing further. Fenn swallowed audibly, then shifted to shoulder under Sasha’s arm. Fenn was shorter and slighter than Sasha, but more than strong enough to help heave him upright. 

"Steady?" Fenn asked, looping his arm around Sasha’s waist. 

"Close enough," Sasha said breathlessly. Sabine pretended not to see the way Sasha’s fingers stroked delicately down the nape of Fenn’s neck as she rounded the bed to slide under his other arm and help. They soon settled Sasha into the hoverchair, and Sabine dropped about a half dozen blankets on him. He glared at her, but pulled them up around himself nevertheless. 

"You’re welcome to come with us Fenn," Sabine said, already starting to push Sasha from the room. Fenn’s gaze dropped to Sasha, who had turned slightly in the chair to look over at the Protector. Fenn nodded, grabbing up his buy’ce and following them down and out to the aircar. Sabine mentally patted herself on the back. When she’d first teased Sasha about admiring Fenn’s shebs, she’d never anticipated they’d actually meet and like one another. Since now they had met, and seemed to be intent on blushing shyly instead of actually doing anything useful about their mutual admiration, she figured it was her duty as a sibling to meddle. 

With Sasha and Fenn for company, the trip back to Mandalorian space was pleasant. They chatted and played pazaak and cu’bikad, and Fenn told tall tales about his time with the Protectors. Sabine relaxed - not completely, but the tension eased from her shoulders, and she didn’t feel the need to constantly check her surroundings. She trusted Sasha implicitly, and Fenn almost as much. 

Sabine was able to land at the medical center on Krownest with her clearances. She and Fenn half carried Sasha down the ramp, Sasha’s face drawn and pale with pain. The doctors rushed up to greet them, pushing a hoverchair. Sasha sank without complaint into the chair, and within an hour he was sedated and in surgery so that a new interface could be secured in his thigh. 

"I hadn’t even realized he was in pain," Fenn said quietly as they waited for Sasha to come out of surgery. 

"He’s used to hiding, had a lot of practice at it," Sabine said a bit morosely. 

"Probably a good thing, it’s kept him alive," Fenn acknowledged. "He’ll pull through ad’ika, your ori’vod is a strong man, and stubborn." 

"I know," Sabine said. 

"But it doesn’t keep you from worrying," Fenn said understandingly. Sabine nodded. He laid a hand on her shoulder, a comforting weight. "He’s your family, of course you worry." 

Sabine nodded again. She knew that. It didn’t make her feel any better. Sasha had been in pain for weeks, months, and the fact that she hadn’t been able to do anything about it didn’t relieve an iota of her guilty feelings. 

"We’re moving him into recovery," a nurse came out to report after a while. "There were no complications, despite the complexity of the surgery. Once we have him settled in a room, you’ll be escorted back so you can be with him when he wakes. A prosthetist will be by to talk to him in the morning, but he won’t be fitted for the new leg until the swelling goes down. Usually that takes a few days, and we’ll be keeping a close eye on the surgical sites in the interim." 

"Thank you," Sabine said politely. She reached out, and Fenn’s hand found hers, clasping warmly. When a nurse returned to show them to where Sasha was in recovery, they walked side by side to the room. Sasha lay pale and still, tubes and IV lines snaking along his arms and over his face. Sabine planted herself in the chair at the bedside, and stayed there until Sasha woke a few hours later. 

"Su’cuy, ori’vod," Sabine greeted when Sasha’s eyes blinked open. He blinked again, then groaned. 

"Basic," Sasha rasped out. "Brain’s not awake enough for Mando’a." Sabine laughed softly, and helped him take a couple ice chips to wet his mouth. 

"How do you feel? It sounded like the surgeons were pretty confident that it went well, and the prosthetist will come in the morning to talk to you about your leg," Sabine said, and Sasha shrugged slightly. 

"Feel pretty good right now - high as fuck," Sasha admitted. Sabine giggled, and heard Fenn snort with laughter behind her. Sasha turned to the Protector, and gave him a broad, dopey smile. "Hi Fenn," he breathed. 

"Hi Sasha," Fenn said, and came to settle on the edge of Sasha’s bed. "I’m glad you’re doing better." 

"Pretty sure that’s mostly the drugs talking," Sabine warned, and Fenn dipped his head. 

"Oh, I know," Fenn said, smiling as he reached out to take Sasha’s other hand in his. "Still, I’m not going to complain about a handsome man smiling at me." 

"Oh, ancestors," Sabine murmured. "I’m going to let a nurse know you’re awake Sasha, Fenn can keep you company," she announced, and then fled the room so she didn’t have to watch them flirt. She’d known Sasha admired Fenn, and that there was a mutual attraction. She’d even been prepared to push them together, since she hadn’t been sure either of them would ever do anything about it. They’d both suffered loss, both struggled to find their places in the Rebellion. She would be quite pleased if they worked out a relationship. That didn’t mean she wanted to watch them flirt. 

When Sabine came back with a nurse, Sasha and Fenn were behaving themselves, but she was certain that was mainly because Sasha was high and Fenn had at least a smidgeon of self restraint. They _were_ still holding hands, Fenn’s gloves pulled off now and his bare palms tenderly cradling and stroking Sasha’s. 

The professionals shooed Sabine and Fenn out while they examined Sasha. When they let Sabine and Fenn back in, they were told Sasha would have to stay at least overnight, but after he’d visited with the prosthetist, he might not have to stay more than a few more days, so long as he promised to stay in bed. With the prospect of escaping the hospital before the week was out, Sasha was willing to make nearly any promise the doctors required. 

Visiting hours were soon over, and so Sabine returned to her family compound, with Fenn at her shoulder. They talked quietly on the trip, about how to break it to her family that she and Sasha were never going to exchange vows. Bluntness, Sabine decided, would be best. Get it over quickly. Sabine also took the opportunity to needle Fenn a little about Sasha. 

"You always did like hearing me talk about him," Sabine said leadingly, and Fenn chuckled. 

"I have," Fenn agreed, clearly comfortable with Sabine knowing about his admiration for Sasha. He shook his head with a quiet laugh. "Ancestors. That first night, when your mother introduced him to everyone, he couldn’t have looked more your chosen mate. And I had never been more attracted to someone in my life. He had your wings on his shoulders, all down his back, and he was so golden, so beautiful." Sabine grinned, familiar enough with Fenn to hear how gone he was on her brother. 

"He does look good in that jacket," Sabine agreed. "He was staring after you all that night, too." Fenn got quiet after that, and Sabine considered her hint for the day well taken. 

The compound was bustling with fighters loyal to the clan when they arrived, and Sabine greeted them politely, exchanging news with those who wished to speak with her, despite that she just wanted to see her parents and brother, reassure herself of their continued safety and good health. When they finally got inside, she grinned to see Tristan in personalized armour for the first time, golden detailing curling over grey plates, rather than the bland white of an Imperial Super Commando. She strode over and clapped him firmly on the pauldron. 

"Looks good vod’ika," Sabine greeted, and he shrugged. She grabbed hold of his pauldron at that, tugging gently to ensure she had his attention. "It does," she assured. "You’ve earned it, Tristan, more than earned it. You do your clan proud." He straightened under her praise, and she made a mental note to ensure she spent a bit more time with him. Circumstance had kept them apart the last few years, but she was still incredibly proud of him. 

Turning, Sabine looked at where her mother sat in the tall seat at the end of the great hall. It wasn’t quite a throne, but it was a near thing. She took a deep, quiet breath, then pulled off her helmet. 

"You should know that Alexsandr and I will never exchange vows," Sabine said, and her mother straightened slightly. 

"We would not refuse him as your partner because he is injured," Ursa said carefully. Sabine thought her mother might be inclined to refuse Sasha for any number of other reasons, but most Mando’ade would never hold battle wounds against a warrior - never hold any hurts against those who bore them. 

"I know that," Sabine said gently. She knew her family wasn’t like some more Imperial minded Mando’ade, who thought those who were injured in either mind or body damaged or defective. "Buir, it was always pretend between us," she explained. "We’re partners, and he’s become my brother in everything but name. But I have no intention of saying the riduurok with him. I’ve all the wrong parts for him, and he’s not built right for me, either." Ursa sagged back in the chair at that, her relief writ clear on her face. Anger and amusement mixed in Sabine’s belly. "He is a foundling, our people have always taken in foundlings," Sabine said, leading them toward what she truly wanted. 

"This is the way," Sabine’s father Alrich agreed, seeing where Sabine was heading. But then, her father had always understood her better than her mother. Rather - she and her mother were similar in many ways, and their stubbornness was one of those ways. Alrich had always loved and understood them both, and he had always encouraged Sabine’s creative thinking. "And you have already begun his education in our traditions." Sabine nodded, pleased to see that understanding. 

"I have," Sabine agreed. "This is the way." She glanced back at Fenn, not sure how much he wanted known about his tentative relationship with Sasha. Fenn shook his head slightly, and so Sabine remained quiet about that, focusing instead on her efforts to help Sasha understand and adopt Mando culture. "He has already learned Mando’a, and is a skilled warrior. He is learning our history, and has won himself armour, although I won’t do it the honour of calling it beskar’gam." 

Ursa made a quiet interrogative, shifting to better hear the tale. Sabine grinned at that. If there was anything that would win Sasha her mother’s favour, it was winning his freedom from the Empire and the armour of a Death Trooper. 

"Sasha was captured by Admiral Thrawn, while warning the Rebellion that their base had been compromised," Sabine said. The fact that he had managed to survive being arrested by such an adversary was a victory in itself. Her immediate family knew enough about Thrawn to understand that. 

"He escaped a Death Trooper’s custody, and took that armour as his own before joining the Rebellion on Lothal, and fighting with them until we could free that planet from Imperial oppression, in the process destroying the Empire’s manufacturing capabilities there. Even though the Death Trooper, and before them, Thrawn, had done the injury from which he even now recovers, Sasha was integral in the liberation of Lothal." 

Ursa’s eyebrow ticked up slightly as Sabine spoke, but she nodded as Sabine finished. "Admirable," Ursa agreed. She tapped her fingers against her helmet where it rested at her side. "This is truly what you desire? And what he desires?" Ursa asked almost gently. Sabine nodded firmly - she knew it was not a light decision to make, and while Sasha had never stated his desire for family outright, Sabine knew he thought of her as a sister, and would be honoured to be counted officially among the clan. "We would be happy to have such a son, even if - well, especially if he is not to be your husband." 

"And if he desires, we can do something about his name," Alrich said, and Sabine’s pride in Sasha’s accomplishments, her resolution to make her parents understand faded away, replaced with an upwelling of uncomplicated love. "After all, he has returned you to us, with your honour brighter than ever," Alrich continued, his voice warm. Sabine laughed at that, and strode across the hall to wrap her father in a hug. 

"Vor entye," Sabine said, looking up at her mother, knowing that the decision truly rested there despite her father’s support. Ursa was the leader of the clan, and it would be her word that named Sasha a Wren. Ursa dipped her head, a slight smile curling the corners of her mouth. 

"I will have to meet him, know him better myself before anything is finalized," Ursa warned, but Sabine knew that Sasha could easily win her mother over on this front. 

"I understand," Sabine said. 

It was likely Sasha would be sent to the forge as well, before a final decision was made. If the goran believed Sasha understood what Sabine had taught him already, that would be a solid argument in his favour. Sabine was fairly confident there too. Sasha enjoyed learning, and had been intensely curious about Mando culture after their visit to Krownest. At first he had couched it in terms of wanting to be able to convince people of their pretend relationship, but over time, Sabine knew, he had simply enjoyed learning about Mandalore and the Mando’ade, admiring their culture and traditions. And if escorting Sasha to the forge gave her an excuse to watch the goran work, well, that was just a bonus. 

"Cabur Rau," Ursa said next, her dark eyes fixing on Fenn, and Sabine fought the urge to laugh as he straightened slightly. He was probably around the same age as her parents, which was sort of strange to think about since he felt much more like a brother than an uncle. "Your loyalty to my daughter has not gone unremarked." There was something of a reprimand in Ursa’s tone, but the line of Fenn’s shoulders conveyed only pride. Ursa shook her head, and smiled slightly. "Please don’t give her any gifts." 

"I have no plans in that direction Countess," Fenn assured Ursa, a touch of amusement in his voice. "Sabine is a leader I’m honoured to follow, and a very good friend, but I’ve set my heart elsewhere." Sabine smiled at that, pleased that he’d at least acknowledge that much. Ursa nodded. 

"Then you’re welcome in our home," Ursa said, and Fenn dipped his head. 

"I know that as I’m not part of your clan, you have no reason to extend me the honour, but I have business for the goran, if you would permit," Fenn said carefully, aware that was a significant ask. Sabine wondered what business it might be - and whether he was thinking already of courting gifts for Sasha. Something from the Wrens’ forge would be expensive, but of utmost value in many other ways to Sasha, now that he better understood the importance of beskar’gam and goran’e. 

"As you are welcome in our home, so are you welcome in our forge," Ursa agreed after exchanging a look with her husband. Fenn dipped his head again, respectful of the trust the Wrens were extending. Ursa glanced back to Sabine, who nodded. 

"I’ll show him around," Sabine agreed easily. She patted her father on the shoulder, then led Fenn deeper into the compound. "So," she said when they were up in the residential area, confident they wouldn’t be overheard. "You having the goran forge something for Sasha?" 

"I need a little work done on my armour, but yes, that too," Fenn admitted, and Sabine grinned. 

"I gave him a dagger, he seems to like it," Sabine offered, and Fenn chuckled. 

"I can imagine. I’d like to speak to the goran about what’s possible." 

Sabine nodded. "Forgive me if this is insensitive," Sabine said. "But your clan -" 

"The cuy’val dar and Cabur’e were my clan. My blood family - they were traditional, but they weren’t warriors. They were killed in the Clan Wars on Concord Dawn after Galidraan, before Duchess Satine took the throne. I was old enough to keep out of the orphanages, and once I got myself noticed by Mand’alor Fett," he explained, then shrugged. Once Fett had noticed Fenn, he’d been one of the cuy’val dar, and set through the wars. Sabine nodded, her curiosity still spinning. 

"The cuy’val dar," Sabine said, "are they - are you the last of them?" 

"Don’t know," Fenn admitted. "Saying they were a clan - that’s probably overstating it. Back then, it felt like we were. We'd forsworn all our other obligations to train the 'troopers. Quarters were tight on Kamino, we had to get along, and the politics of back here didn’t matter so much. A couple of them were awful, but Jango straightened them out, more or less. Maybe if he’d lived, it would have become a real clan, maybe even the Haat Mando’ade come again. But he wasn’t ready to be Mand’alor again, not really, and then he was dead and well, that was that. When they dismissed us, I felt lucky to end up with the Cabur’e, and that - that was home, until Gar Saxon killed them." 

Sabine reached out at that, clasping her hand on Fenn’s elbow. He turned into her, wrapping Sabine in a warm hug and resting his forehead gently against hers. She pressed her head against the smooth metal of his buy’ce, treasuring the gesture of affection. 

"We will avenge them," Sabine promised, quiet but firm, reaching up to lay her hand on the back of Fenn’s neck beneath his helmet, holding him in place for a breath. When she spoke again, it was a promise: "Mando'ad draar digu." 

"This is the way," Fenn growled, and Sabine felt her mouth stretch into a feral grin as another common Mando aphorism rose in her memory. Munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa; long memory, short fuse. They were going to burn the Empire down, and she was going to watch, and an independant Mandalore, like a starbird, would rise from the ashes. 

"This is the way." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a:**  
>  Ad'ika = little one, son, daughter, of any age - also used informally to adults much like *lads* or *guys*,  
> Be kyr'tsad = of Death Watch  
> Buir = parent  
> Buy'ce = buy’ce  
> Ciryc ru'kyr'amur gar meh gar solus = Cold killed you if you alone  
> Cu'bikad = Indoor game that involves stabbing blades into a chequered board - a cross between darts, chess and ludo  
> Cuy’val dar = "those who no longer exist" Bounty hunters and mercenaries, mostly Mando, recruited by Jango Fett to serve as the trainers for the clone troopers on Kamino.  
> Gaanjorhaa = sign language (from gaan = hand, and jorhaa'ir = talk)  
> Gai bal manda = adoption ceremony, lit. name and soul  
> Gar morut’yc = You (are) safe  
> Haar'chak = Damn it!  
> Ibic = This  
> Jate'kara Cabur Rau = Good luck Protector Rau  
> Jorhaa’ir = talk  
> Kaysh = his/her/their  
> Kom'rk = gauntlet, also a type of starfighter  
> Manda'yaim = the planet Mandalore  
> Mando'ad draar digu = A Mando never forgets  
> Mandokarla = having the *right stuff*, showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue  
> Meg liser mhi gaa'taylir = What can we (do) to help  
> Mhi linibar dajun eyaytir = we need a plan to escape  
> Munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa = long memory, short fuse - said to be the typical Mando mindset  
> Ner gai = My name  
> Ni ceta = sorry (lit: I kneel) grovelling apology - rare  
> Ni ru’mirdir ibac = I thought that  
> Nu ru'cuyir solus bat Bahryn = (I) was not alone on Bahryn  
> Olarum = welcome  
> Ori'vod = big brother, older brother, special friend  
> Oya manda = Expression of Mandalorian solidarity and perpetuity: emotional and assertive.  
> Ramikadyc = commando state of mind - an attitude that he/ she can do anything, endure anything, and achieve the objective. A blend of complete confidence and extreme tenacity instilled in special forces during training. Can also be used informally to describe a determined, focused person.  
> Riduurok = love bond, specifically between spouses - marriage agreement  
> Shebs = backside, rear, buttocks (also rear of building etc)  
> Su'cuy = Hi  
> Su cuy'gar, Cabur = Hello (lit. You're still alive), Protector  
> Suvarir Mando’a = (You) understand Mando'a  
> Vod'ika = little sibling  
> Vod’ika, ibic Al’verde be... = little sibling, this (is) Commander of...  
> Vor entye = Thank you (lit. *I accept a debt*)


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning, Sabine’s mother accompanied her to the hospital to see Sasha. Sabine called ahead, knowing that Sasha would be put out if she sprung this on him entirely unaware. He didn’t know _why_ Ursa was visiting, but at least he was awake, cleaned up, and had eaten by the time the Wrens arrived. 

Sabine spoke with Sasha first, trading pleasantries, asking how he had slept. He was a bit stiffer than usual, watching Ursa warily. When Ursa spoke, Sasha answered her as he would a commanding officer, save addressing her as _ma’am_ or _sir_. The interview between them was almost unbearably awkward for Sabine to witness. Ursa was wary, still not quite sure what to make of this outsider who had so great a claim on her daughter’s affection, and Sasha, ever paranoid, was likely preparing himself to be thrown off planet. 

"I’m glad you’re recovering well," Ursa finally said. "Sabine has clarified that you and she are not romantically inclined toward one another. You are an honoured guest in our home for as long as you need to recover. Your loyalty to Sabine will be remembered." Sasha just nodded, clearly not sure what to make of the situation. Ursa nodded in turn, and left Sabine and Sasha to visit. 

"I’ve asked them to consider officially making you my brother," Sabine said when her mother had left, and Sasha goggled at her in surprise. Sabine let out a quiet snort of laughter. "Don’t look so surprised. I’ve thought of you as a brother since around the first time I brought you to Krownest. And you fit every criteria a Mando would like to see in a foundling taken into their clan." Sasha blushed slightly at that, reaching out and squeezing her hand, his eyes soft with affection. "Buckethead," Sabine said fondly, and leaned in to hug him. 

Sasha was fairly quiet for the rest of their visit, and so Sabine nattered on at him about this and that, seeing how outrageous of a tale she could spin before he looked over at her with narrowed eyes. Every time he caught her, she laughed, and he paid a bit more attention for a while before withdrawing again. Sabine didn’t mind really, while he'd called her ‘little sister’ she knew he’d never imagined he might be properly taken in by her family, especially once the ruse of their fake betrothal came to light. 

Fenn arrived with food at mid day, and the three of them enjoyed a meal together. Sasha perked up a bit in Fenn’s presence, and after a bit Sabine made an excuse and left them to keep one another company. She had been wanting to visit the forge anyway, despite that she had no real reason to go. The forge always felt like the beginning of time to her, the hot metal smoking and the ringing of the goran’s hammer, the process of creation as the goran worked the hot metal into shape. 

"Su’cuy gar, Alor’ika Sabine," the goran said in greeting when Sabine slipped into the warm dimness of the forge. 

"Su’cuy gar, goran," Sabine returned, and settled onto an out of the way bench, watching as the goran programmed the pneumatic hammer. 

There was a terrific clang, and with a pair of tongs, the goran pulled a gleaming handplate from the forge. Over the years, the goran had become used to Sabine’s intermittent visits to the forge, and so they didn’t press her to state her business. If Sabine had work for the goran, she would have mentioned it when she came in. Instead, the goran set the hand plate aside to cool the rest of the way, then began quietly narrating the work they were doing, the fiddly in-between steps, and why they were taken. 

Sabine listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with an observation based on previous visits, or a question. Eventually Sabine dozed off, lulled by the rhythmic ringing of hammer on steel and the warmth of the forge. She woke to stillness, and stretched upright, glad her helmet was still on when she found the goran sitting across from her, watching her carefully.

"Gar oya’karir kar’tayl," the goran observed, and Sabine nodded. "Jate," the goran said approvingly, and reached up. For the first time, the goran took their buy’ce off in Sabine’s presence. Sabine straightened slightly, well aware of the privilege she was being afforded. The identities of the goran’e, so integral in the Mando community, were closely guarded. Only their most trusted family and friends were afforded the privilege of knowing just who they were, and even then, not always. 

"Ba’vodu?" Sabine breathed, because the face opposite was familiar - her father’s sister Ruusaan Khaar, who lived nearby but not in the Wren compound. Ruusaan grinned, her round cheeks nearly obscuring her dark eyes, and the wrinkles that fanned from the corners of her eyes crinkling up. 

"Your mother thought it was time for you to know," Ruusaan said kindly. "Do you understand why I couldn’t tell you before?"

"You didn’t want me to feel obligated to keep any more of a secret than I already did," Sabine guessed, and Ruusaan nodded. Sabine flushed slightly, caught between pleasure and embarrassment. 

"Don’t be ashamed that I noticed, I’m quite pleased you’re curious about this path," Ruusaan said, reaching out and squeezing Sabine’s leg above the plates of her armour. "Your interest in my work over the years - and your own skills - haven’t gone unnoticed either."

"Does that - you’re willing to train me?" Sabine asked, understanding sweeping through her. Ruusaan nodded, still grinning, and Sabine threw herself into her aunt’s arms. 

"Ooof," Ruusaan said theatrically. "You’re not as little as you once were, Sab’ika." Sabine grinned at the diminutive, joy bubbling up inside her. "Now that we’ve broken with Death Watch, your mother says Mand’alor Kryze has been talking about getting rid of the Imperial restrictions. We goran’e might be coming out of the dark, taking up our old places again. A promise like that - it would get a lot of people on the Mand’alor’s side." 

The idea thrilled Sabine. Personalized armour, she’d been taught, was part of her birthright. It was also something the Empire, through Viceroy Saxon, and the Imperial backed puppets after him, had tried very hard to suppress, along with the learning of Mando’a and other tenets of the Resol’nare. There were Mando’ade, she knew, who hadn’t been raised with the same advantages as her. Towards the end of her time at the Imperial academy, some of the younger cadets had barely been able to converse in Mando’a at all, their language suppressed by both the Imperial backed Death Watch regime and the preceding New Mandalorian government. 

"You honour me with your teachings," Sabine said formally, and Ruusaan nodded. 

"And you honour your people by taking up the hammer and learning the ways of the goran’e," Ruusaan said formally, then clapped Sabine on the shoulder. "Come on, it’ll nearly be time for the meal, we have plenty of time to talk about what I’ll be teaching you." She rose, taking off the heavy leather toolbelt and apron that protected her as she worked. Sabine nodded, and they put their helmets back on, then walked together out of the Forge.

Fenn was back at the family compound when Sabine arrived, and she waved at him in greeting. He was talking with one of the other pilots, and so Sabine continued inside with her aunt, and didn’t disrupt their conversation. In a way, she was glad. While her parents clearly trusted Fenn enough to host him in their home, she didn’t know if it would be permissible to tell him that Ruusaan was the clan’s goran.

That night when they ate, Sabine sat with Ruusaan on one side of her, and Fenn on the other. Despite his tendency to be a bit introverted, Fenn was in a good mood, and so they coaxed him into telling tales. A little drunk and feeling safe and comfortable, Fenn could spin out a story with skill. He had a rather poetic turn to his descriptions, and Sabine had long suspected he was something of a romantic. Once he got going, his voice took on the particular cadence of a practiced teacher. 

Fenn had been one of the cuy’val dar, Sabine knew, and she was certain this was the voice he had used when he trained his ‘troopers as not only pilots, but Mando’ade. She wondered briefly if any of them were still alive, if he’d trained Captain Rex, who served with Phoenix Cell. She didn’t ask, despite her curiosity. Most of the clones had lived short, difficult lives, and died fast, brutal deaths in the name of the Republic. Those who survived to serve under the Empire became blaster-fodder in the Stormtrooper Corps, or they escaped to lives as civilians, fading into the background. It wasn’t a fate she thought Fenn would like to think on more than he already did.

The other residents of the compound warmed to Fenn through the night. It likely helped that he was already known to them, respected by them. He had fought at their side for some time now, flying in the fighter wing that provided air support when Mand’alor Kryze called for Clan Wren, and had a strong reputation both as one of the Cabur'e on Concord Dawn and for his service during the war with the Separatists. 

When one of Fenn’s stories came to a close, Ursa deftly led the conversation around to the liberation of Lothal, and the part Sasha had played, his capture and escape, and the Death Trooper armour he had won along with his freedom. Sabine nearly laughed, understanding what her mother was doing. It was a good story yes, but it also highlighted all of Sasha’s traits that were most admirable to a Mando - his strength and tenacity and absolute refusal to lay down and die even when he was bleeding and bruised. 

At her mother’s urging, Sabine told the story as well as she could, highlighting Sasha’s bravery and perseverance. When she told how he had been restrained and beaten half to death, his prosthetic damaged, low murmurs of sympathy rumbled through the room. When she told how he’d killed the Death Trooper charged with taking him into a more permanent captivity, the feeling shifted to vindication, vicarious joy even. 

They all knew that Sabine cared for Sasha, even if they didn’t know yet that he was as a brother to her, rather than a potential mate. Still, she took care to make her admiration of Sasha’s fighting ability clear - it was the truth after all, and it didn’t hurt anyone to praise Sasha’s skills. He’d more than earned the acclaim Sabine wreathed about his name.

As she spoke, Sabine was careful not to catch Fenn’s eye. She had a feeling his expression, whatever it was, would make her laugh or snort or _something_ that really wasn’t what she wanted to do at the moment. So she addressed her mother, but was careful not to gush or exaggerate. 

"Commendable," Ursa said simply when Sabine finished, but her tone was warm with approval. "He sounds like a valuable addition to the anti-Imperial cause." Everyone heard what Ursa did not say - that Sasha would make an equally valuable addition to Clan Wren. Sabine finally allowed herself to smile, slightly smug with pleasure. Ursa gave a minute nod, acknowledging Sabine’s skillful storytelling, and all it had done to raise Sasha’s reputation among the most trusted members of their clan. 

After the meal had ended, Sabine and Ruusaan tucked themselves away in a corner of the sitting room, talking quietly of Sabine’s limited but still useful education in materials science. She had focused on learning the properties of beskar for her abandoned energy weapon prototype, and learned a fair bit of machining when she was designing the arc pulse generator. She still had a lot to learn to become a proper goran, and not all of it would be smithing skills. But she had a good foundation already, and was eager to learn the rest.

* * *

In the morning, Sabine went to the forge for a few hours, doing scut work for her aunt - checking the fuel lines before they fired the forge up for the day, scrubbing out the vents that dissipated the heat and fumes, testing the temperature of the blue-hot flame, heating crucibles to melt beskar in, and studying wire-frame models of basic armour types the pneumatic hammer could shape. Ruusaan also set Sabine to smithing in the oldest fashion, melting and forming a small plate of beskar entirely by hand. 

It took less than an hour of hammering for Sabine to feel like her arm might just fall off. While the hammer wasn’t particularly heavy, the repetitive motion worked muscles she didn’t regularly use. Thankfully, her aunt gave her a handful of datachips and sent her off to study when her strength flagged. Hammering, Ruusaan promised, was something Sabine would have to work at consistently, and eventually she’d probably have to re-cast the armour over her upper torso, or significantly redesign it as she gained musculature there. Ruusaan's own armour was formed of a beskar chestplate, helmet, and greaves, with a heavy leather apron protecting her thighs and long quilted leather gloves protecting her hands and lower arms. While Sabine knew her aunt was a skilled combatant, her armour was more for protection from the heat of the forge than blaster bolts.

With a datapad and the files her aunt had given her, Sabine went to see how Sasha was doing. He was grumpy, having met with the prosthetist but told it would be days yet before a new leg could be properly fitted. Until then, he was stuck in the hospital and couldn’t even begin physiotherapy. They had let him hop over to the ‘fresher with a crutch, which was about the only thing that made him bearable. 

Sabine kept Sasha company for a while. They talked some, Sabine telling Sasha about the night before, and how her mother seemed to be helping ease the others into the idea of Sasha joining Clan Wren. They would still need to make public that they weren’t actually betrothed, and Sabine made a mental note to talk to her mother about that. 

When the nurse bustled in to bring Sasha his midday meal, Sabine headed home. While she wanted to spend more time with Sasha, she also wanted to live up to the trust her parents and aunt were placing on her as an apprentice goran. The datachips her aunt had given her had a lot of important information, but even after her cursory skimming, Sabine could tell she was going to need some references and additional information. 

Back at the compound, Sabine found herself pulled into strategizing with her mother, Fenn, and via holocomm, the Mand’alor and some of the other clans’ leaders. Sabine knew she was her mother’s heir, but she hadn’t anticipated being thrust into the politics and planning just yet. Still, it was another responsibility she knew she would do her best to carry with grace. Ursa was young yet, but she was also now actively in rebellion against the Empire. Ensuring continuity of leadership was part of her duty as a clan leader.

* * *

Days blurred a bit while Sasha was still in the hospital. Sabine visited him everyday, but her waking hours were filled with training with the clan’s warriors, learning from her aunt in the forge, and sitting at her mother’s elbow during strategy sessions. Sasha was very understanding - and Sabine wasn’t his only visitor. Fenn came nearly as frequently as Sabine did, and the rest of Sabine’s family visited as well. Finally, Sasha’s new prosthetic was fit to his residual leg, and he began his physical therapy. The first few days, they kept him in the hospital, just in case. Two standard weeks after arriving on Krownest, he was finally released, although he would have to return for check-ups intermittently. 

Upon arrival back at the Wren compound, Sabine escorted Sasha inside. That day, he just rested, doing his exercises and taking his medicine. Come morning, Sasha went alone to the goran. Sabine knew that this interview would help her parents determine his suitability as a member of the clan. They’d want to speak with him themselves a few more times too, but the goran would provide a relatively unbiased opinion on whether Sasha really was mandokarla.

For the next week, Sasha got comfortable with his prosthetic, regained his strength, and had at least one conversation a day with Alrich or Ursa Wren. Tristan also hung around with Sasha, although that was more just getting to know one another better. Each was inclined to like and respect the other due to their affection for Sabine. As they got to talking, they found they got on well, although given the nearly two decade gap in their ages, they didn’t have a lot in common aside from their disdain for the Empire.

Finally, one morning Sabine escorted Sasha into her mother’s office. Sasha looked around somewhat warily when he realized that Alrich and Tristan were there, along with Ursa and Sabine. Ursa gave a thin, wry smile, and Sasha knew that a decision had been reached. 

"Your loyalty to Sabine is remembered," Ursa said, and gestured for Sasha to sit. "You took her under your protection without motive beyond helping her attain the highest position she could in the regime, and in doing so, you not only helped her gain invaluable skills, you have helped our people throw off the yoke of the Empire."

Sasha flushed, but didn’t speak. He dipped his head slightly, acknowledging Ursa’s statement. Sabine thought he might argue, if it were anyone one other than Ursa speaking. But her mother had always had the ability to keep a room silent through her sheer presence. 

"I doubt it is a secret from you, that Sabine would have you as her brother," Ursa said, and Sasha nodded again. Ursa gave a faint smile. "You have displayed all the traits I would wish in a son, and you are, Sabine tells me, a foundling?"

"I am," Sasha said, speaking for the first time. "My parents were listed unknown, and I was raised in a state home on Coruscant. As soon as the war started, I figured joining up was my best chance to make something of myself." 

Ursa nodded, seeing the logic of that. "Suvarir Mando’a?" she asked.

"Elek," Sasha said, then shrugged, and waved his hand in a so-so motion. "Kih."

Sabine snorted slightly. "Kaysh suvarir ori’shya kih," she said, and Sasha shrugged. Sabine rolled her eyes. Ursa smiled slightly at the interchange. 

"Suvarir Resol’nare?" Ursa asked next, and Sasha swallowed thickly, then nodded. 

"Ba'jur, beskar'gam, ara'nov, aliit, Mando'a bal Mand'alor - an vencuyan mhi," Sasha recited, and Ursa dipped her head. 

"Gar urmankalar Resol’nare?" Ursa asked, and Sasha hesitated slightly but nodded. Ursa nodded once more, sharp and decisive, then looked to the others. Sabine nodded firmly, Alrich and Tristan following suit a moment later. Ursa smiled, dark eyes fixing back on Sasha. "Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Alexsandr Wren," Ursa said. Sasha sucked in a deep breath, blinking hard. 

"Vor entye," Sasha husked out, voice thick. Ursa gave a tight nod, then reached out, gently touching Sasha’s golden hair. He raised his head, looking at her. Ursa gave a tight smile, seeing the grateful tears that gathered in Sasha’s eyes, but didn’t fall. 

"Nasaad entye," Ursa said firmly, cupping his cheek in her hand, for there was no debt in taking on a foundling, especially one who would surely strengthen the clan. Sasha dipped his head, and then huffed when Tristan clapped him firmly on the shoulder. 

"Come on ori’vod," Sabine said gently, "let’s get you settled in. I imagine we’re having a fancy meal tonight." Ursa nodded, and Sasha let himself be guided into the family residence. The droids had already moved his meagre belongings to his new room. "It’s a good thing you left so many of your clothes here," Sabine said, going to Sasha’s closet and flipping through the hangers. 

"I’m more interested in a shower, shave, and haircut," Sasha said, and Sabine laughed softly.

"Alright, we can probably manage that. Want me to help you with the haircut? I know you can handle the rest yourself," Sabine asked. Sasha looked appraisingly over Sabine’s own recently cut hair. She’d shaved the sides off not long after their arrival, and trimmed the rest shorter, then dyed the ends a deep blue. "I know other styles, I promise," she said, a little curious as to what Sasha might pick. 

"I like the length for the most part," Sasha admitted, reaching up to push back golden strands. His hair was nearly to his collar, but it had grown out unevenly. "Just trim it straight across at about jaw length, and we’ll see about shaving the sides when I’m wearing a buy’ce more regularly." Sabine just grinned at that, pleased by his acceptance that he was going to end up in proper beskar’gam. "No dye though," he directed, and Sabine waved him off, then went to find her scissors. 

Sabine carefully cut Sasha’s hair as he’d requested, evening out the ends and taking off a bit of the length. He ruffled his fingers through it when she finished, and smiled. Sabine smiled in turn, then shoved him toward the shower while she went to pick out his clothes for later. Although there were a few good possibilities, Sabine selected the jacket he’d worn on the false betrothal feast. It was one of the fancier ones in the wardrobe, and it looked fantastic on him. 

Sasha was going to stand out no matter what, being nearly the only adult not in armour. Sabine was confident that would be remedied soon enough. For tonight, the stark black of the jacket, and the bright gold wings embroidered across his broad shoulders and down his back was statement enough. Satisfied, Sabine went off to read for a little while - Ruusaan had given her some texts about historical armour that were rather fascinating.

Sabine was reading in the family sitting room when Sasha reappeared. He didn’t have the jacket on yet, but he looked good in his tailored black trousers, black knee boots, and black undershirt. He still moved a little stiffly, getting used to his new leg, but he was putting weight on it properly, not limping along like he had on the damaged prosthetic. The physiotherapy was working well, and he was eager to get back in fighting trim.

"It’s going to take so much beskar to get you properly kitted up," Sabine said critically, measuring his long legs and broad shoulders by sight. She couldn’t eye-ball someone for armour like her aunt could, but that was a skill a goran learned over time. "I don’t think we have anything even remotely your size in the vault." She paused, considering. While Sasha was taller than Tristan, he wasn’t absurdly huge - and he was human, so they wouldn’t have to break out any of the old casting moulds from when there’d been more non-humans in the clan. Still, he was taller than most of the Wrens ever had been. They’d probably have to reforge a suit and a half to outfit him properly. 

"Uh, sorry?" Sasha said, scratching at his neatened-up sideburns as he joined her on the sofa. He’d trimmed them down a bit so more of his sharp jawline was bare, and between that and the trim he was cleaner cut than Sabine had seen him in a long time.

"You’re probably going to want to start shaving that once you’re in armour," Sabine said, gesturing at her own cheeks. She couldn’t think of a single Mando who didn’t scrape down their cheeks and chin. 

"That’s a problem for when I actually have armour," Sasha said with a shrug. Sabine let out a soft snort, then cocked her head. 

"Have you started to think about what you might want it to look like?" Sabine asked, setting aside her reading. 

Sasha smirked at her. "Black," he said, and Sabine shook her head with a huff, reaching out to punch him lightly in the arm. She should have anticipated that. Sasha’s smirk bloomed into a full smile, and he laughed. "No, honestly, I really liked your armour with the black on black look," he admitted. "I was thinking matte black with some gloss detailing, maybe a little gold, a little grey, a little white." Sabine nodded. The colours would all suit him, would identify him as part of Clan Wren, would be appropriate in their meanings.

"Markings?" Sabine asked, beginning to form the armour in her mind. If he wanted, he could wear a heavy-built set, she thought. While he fought fast and dirty, he was also large and strong, and used his size to his advantage. His style hadn’t shifted a lot when his leg was amputated, he’d just taken advantage of the fact that one of his legs was made of durasteel and capable of kicking like a wild fathier. Beskar’gam likely wouldn’t change that; if anything it would make him more likely to use his body as a battering ram, since he knew how well beskar’gam protected.

"I would like to wear your starbird still, if it’s appropriate?" Sasha said almost hesitantly after a moment, and Sabine grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. 

"Always, Sasha," Sabine affirmed. "And the Fulcrum symbol, I imagine?" Sasha nodded. 

"Not entirely sure what else, I’ll have to think on it some more," Sasha said, and Sabine dipped her head. They had time. "And I’ll want to run it all past you anyway." 

Sabine nodded, warm with pride. Did he know yet that she was starting her training as a goran? Or did he simply understand how much armour and design interested her? It was something she would have to ask her mother about - she very much wanted Sasha to know about her training, and he was a member of the clan now. 

"So tonight," Sasha said after a while, and Sabine looked back over to him. Nerves, she diagnosed easily. 

"There hasn’t been enough time to call a full gathering of the clan and invite the allied clans, but you’ll be presented to the core of the clan that lives here as a son of Clan Wren. Buir will probably make clear that our presumed betrothal was to protect each other, and use it as further evidence of your loyalty to me and therefore the family," Sabine speculated. Sasha nodded, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "There’ll probably be a big party in a little while, and depending on who’s invited, we’ll probably need to get you another fancy outfit. You’ll probably get some fittings for your armour then." Sasha nodded his understanding, relaxing a bit more now that he knew what to expect.

Tristan wandered in after a while, and Sabine realized she wasn’t certain if he had been told that Ba’vodu Ruusaan was the goran either, or that Sabine would be learning how to forge armour. Another question for her mother. For the moment, she helped her two brothers fumble their way into conversation, joy warming in her at the sight of them learning about one another, recognizing in one another things that they could respect and admire.

By the time they needed to get ready for the meal, Tristan and Sasha were arguing over the latest meshgeroya scores. Evidently, Sasha hadn’t had anything better to do in the hospital than watch holoprograms, including sports. Tristan was a fan of the Krownest Rooks, and the two of them happily picked apart every play and call of the last game while Sabine listened.

That night, when Ursa stood from the table, she lauded Sasha much as she had the first time Sabine brought him home with her. This time, Ursa explained their deception, and praised their loyalty to one another. She gave an abridged but glowing account of Sasha’s escape from Thrawn, and his work for the Rebellion, as both an informant and a fighter in the liberation of Lothal. If she hadn’t led with the fact that Sasha and Sabine were only faking their romantic relationship, this would be where she announced their imminent marriage. Instead, she introduced him to the core of Clan Wren as their brother, Alexsandr Wren. 

Everyone cheered, and it didn’t even sound begrudging. Sasha was forced to go stand at Ursa’s side, and Sabine fought not to laugh, because he towered head and shoulders over her mother. Sasha said a few words, his low voice slow and careful as he pronounced his honour and joy at becoming a Wren in Mando’a. 

When the tables had been cleared and everyone was standing around talking and drinking, Sabine left Sasha to his own devices for a bit, because for all he was a Wren now, he needed to be accepted on his own merits. He did well, and visibly relaxed when Fenn joined him. Sabine watched the knot of them a little longer, Sasha and Fenn and some of the pilots and a couple guards. The others seemed to pick up that Sasha and Fenn already knew and respected one another, and that seemed to ease things further. Sabine went over then, and hugged Sasha. 

Sasha didn’t startle at all when Sabine joined them, just shifting so his arm laid around her shoulders. She joined the conversation readily, and they talked deep into the night, the topics and faces changing as they circulated through the room, each newcomer greeting Sasha with respect in their voices and a solid grasp of his arm in the Mando fashion. Sasha was at his politest, but warmer than Sabine had seen him in the officers' wardroom on any of the ships they served on together. He might not yet be fully comfortable in his new place, but Sabine knew he could see a path to belonging here.

That night, Sabine went up to her bed with a ball of warmth settled deep inside her. She felt more at home - at ease - than she had since before leaving for the academy. She had her favourite people safe in the compound, and a path forward that she believed in laid at her feet.

* * *

It took a few days for the routine to re-settle with Sasha back from the hospital, but Sabine’s days didn’t change too much. Sasha was at every meal, and occasionally pulled into strategy meetings with the Mand’alor and the other clan leaders, his Mando’a improving by leaps and bounds since it was the main language in use at the Wren compound. He trained in the yard with the others, although at first it was mostly doing his physio exercises and testing himself on their range, but soon he was sparring regularly with Fenn, and anyone else who cared to try their luck.

"You and Fenn," Sabine asked one day as she helped Sasha with his exercises, not sure how much to prod. She was all for the relationship, but she also wanted to be sure Sasha wouldn't get hurt. She knew they spent at least a few hours together everyday, mostly talking, but sometimes reading together or playing games.

"Me and Fenn," Sasha said, and grinned broadly. 

"Wow, already with the sappy smiling," Sabine teased. "I figured he was pretty gone on you, but Fenn's an old romantic."

"He is," Sasha agreed, his grin softening into a sincerely fond smile. "He's so good to me Sabine. I haven't felt like this about anyone in years. Not since Tion." Sabine swallowed her next comment. 

"Be careful, alright?" Sabine asked, instead of needling him about whether or not he and Fenn were sharing a bunk yet. "I don't want you to get hurt." Sasha glanced over, and nodded, seeing how serious she was. 

"He's good to me," Sasha reiterated a bit more emphatically. "You don't have to protect me, not from him."

"I know you could beat him in a fight, but your heart is a lot more fragile than the rest of you, and don't deny it," Sabine said. "And for all that you have the power of Clan Wren behind you now, Fenn's survived two regimes already. He has a lot of clout around here, and if things don't work out between you two, he's not someone you want as an enemy."

"He's survived two regimes already," Sasha agreed. "But him being older, more knowledgeable? That he's a survivor? Those are things that make him more appealing to me. He's survived, even when he's forced to go along with a system he hates. And I think you underestimate how highly he regards you, and by extension the rest of Clan Wren, for bringing the Mand'alor back from exile and showing him a way to fight the Empire."

"That makes it sound a lot more intentional than it was," Sabine said drily. "I sure as hell didn't feel up to uniting the clans and taking up the mantle of Mand'alor, even if the Dha'kad fell into my hands." Sasha chuckled, then shrugged. 

"Intentional or not, you've set Clan Wren very close to the Mand'alor. If she can truly unite the clans, throw the Empire out of Mando space, your-" 

"Our."

"Our family will be well protected through the coming regime," Sasha said, smiling at her insistent interruption to correct his mis-speech. Our. He was a Wren now. His smile broadened at the very idea of it.

Sabine nodded. "And Fenn?" She asked.

"Isn't with me because I'm Clan Wren," Sasha said, still smiling. "He's a bit of a poet, you know," he said, and Sabine smiled, nodding. "I don't know what in the world he sees in me, but I'm glad he does. I know it'll be work, especially with the war on, and our loyalties split between the Mand'alor and the Rebellion. But I'm more than willing to put in the effort."

"Alright," Sabine. "I just wanted to be sure you weren't setting yourself up for a heartbreak."

"I mean, I might be," Sasha admitted. "But I really don't think so." Sabine nodded, and that was that. She'd technically known Fenn longer, and she did trust him. But he also wasn't her brother - wasn't hers to protect. But if Sasha was willing to risk his heart - she wasn't going to stand in the way. Not when the risk came with a reward he clearly desired.

* * *

About a week after the welcoming party, Ursa sent Sasha to buy some more clothes in Keldabe, and pick up a flight suit and other necessities to go under armour, with the warning that Mand’alor Kryze would be coming to eat with them, as would the other clan leaders. The banquet would be Sasha’s presentation to the wider Mando community, those who might not be as predisposed to like him simply due to his ties to Sabine. 

A few days after Sasha was sent to buy himself something nice, Sabine paused in the threshold of the library. Fenn and Sasha were within, Fenn’s heavy pauldrons removed. Their bodies were angled towards one another, and Sabine thought she’d narrowly missed them kissing. 

"I - I don’t have anything to offer you," Sasha said quietly, voice rough and strained. Fenn reached out, hesitating, then sank his fingers into Sasha’s thick gold hair. Gently Fenn curved his fingers along Sasha’s skull, tipping his head down a little. Sabine watched surreptitiously from the doorway, ready to scold Fenn if he hurt Sasha in any way.

"I don’t care about that," Fenn said gently, then leaned in and took Sasha’s mouth, kissing him deeply. Sasha moaned, embracing Fenn and urging him closer. Fenn obliged willingly, shifting so he was pressed between Sasha’s legs, pinning him against the arm of the sofa and kissing greedily. 

"Yes, yes, Fenn," Sasha breathed, and Fenn shuddered, nipping at Sasha’s mouth before pulling away slightly. Sabine flushed, torn between giving them their privacy and ensuring Fenn wasn’t taking advantage.

"There’s not much I can offer you either," Fenn said gently, carding his hand through Sasha’s hair. "In that, we are equals." 

Sasha captured Fenn’s other hand in both of his, drawing it to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss into Fenn’s palm. Fenn smiled, settling carefully against Sasha. Figuring it was as safe as it could be - or at least a good time to break things up - Sabine stepped into the room. Fenn straightened slightly, but Sasha pulled him back down, nuzzling against his ginger hair. Sabine couldn’t help but smile at them. 

"Date’s set for the banquet," Sabine told them. "Three days from now." She paused, then looked at Fenn. "In confidence, and with the understanding that you’re serious about courting Sasha, you might be interested to know that I’m training with our goran. Works by apprentices are very cheap. In fact, I might be willing to let something go for the bargain price of if you _ever_ hurt him, they’ll never find your body." Fenn barked out a delighted laugh.

"That’s a very reasonable price," Fenn said fondly. He kissed Sasha’s palm as Sabine grinned. Sasha rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. 

Three days later, Sabine stood with Fenn and Tristan in the great hall, mingling and exchanging pleasantries with the guests. The door opened, and Fenn aspirated his drink. Sabine glanced at him, then followed his line of sight. She swallowed thickly, then let out a low whistle. Fenn nodded silently.

Sasha had just entered the room, bracketed by Ursa and Alrich. Ursa wore her usual armour, although polished to a higher shine than usual. Alrich wore sedate greys and golds, a more formal outfit than his day to day wear. Between them, Sasha was a beacon. He wore a brilliantly white jacket with geometric gold wings spreading over his shoulders. It was very similar in cut and decoration to his fancy black jacket, but the golden feathers were now both the same sort of thread of gold embroidery as before, but also shaped and engraved plates of aurodium stitched on. White was symbolic of fresh beginnings, and she wasn’t surprised he was wearing it for the occasion, but Sabine had never seen him in white before, and hadn’t expected it to look so good on him. The light caught on the embroidery and lamellar plates and in his hair, made him look like something out of a holovid. 

"Better get him something soon," Sabine teased Fenn. Fenn nodded silently, his eyes not leaving Sasha as he and her parents crossed the room. 

"Word has it the man likes knives," Fenn said, voice a bit husky. Sabine grinned. 

"He does," Sabine agreed. They both knew that Sasha still treasured the dagger Sabine had given him, even if the betrothal it represented was false. "We’ll talk in the morning," Sabine promised. Fenn nodded, eyes still tracking Sasha. Sabine shook her head. "You’ve got it bad, Cabur," she murmured. 

"Lek," Fenn sighed, and Sabine snorted, but refrained from teasing him further. It was no fun if he just agreed with her. She just shook her head again, slightly bemused but also a little glad that Fenn was so utterly gone on Sasha. 

The banquet went well overall, with Sasha being introduced to the wider clan and their allies. He held up admirably, although he was probably a bit unnerved by being the center of attention all night. As security and intelligence specialists, neither Sasha nor Sabine were comfortable being under such scrutiny, nor did either of them enjoy it. The highlight of the evening was the presentation of an undecorated buy’ce, given to represent the full set of armour that Sasha would soon wear as one of the clan. 

In the morning, Sabine joined Ruusaan in the forge as she had most days since beginning her apprenticeship. Sasha came with her that day, for Ruusaan to take his measurements and talk with him about his beskar’gam. While Sasha and Ruusaan talked, Sabine practiced her hammering, re-working the handplate Ruusaan had given her. When she had it to Ruusaan’s specifications, Sabine brought the plate to her aunt, taking the opportunity to offer some unsolicited opinions on Sasha’s armour. 

Ruusaan inspected the plate carefully, taking precise measurements before nodding. Sabine grinned, then pulled off one of her gloves so Ruusaan could show her how to fit the plate on. Sasha watched bemusedly, pleased to see Sabine’s happiness. Once the plate was in place, they returned to the subject of Sasha’s armour. Ruusaan showed him different styles of chest plates and greaves and cuisses, variations on pauldrons and gauntlets and helmets. 

"Towards the heavier end of the spectrum," Sasha said after a while, scrolling through the options. "My favoured weapon is a combo long-gun and melee staff, and I prefer close in fighting. I’m quicker than most people with my build, and the heavier armour will protect me when I decide to use my body as a battering ram. People already tend to look at me and think I’m slower than I am, with heavy armour on, I'll only be more of a surprise when I move fast." Ruusaan nodded. In the end, Sasha’s selections tended toward the traditional style. Most of the Wren beskar’gam did, even Sabine’s had a fairly conservative build, the creativity poured into the paint job. 

"Sabine will do your colours," Ruusaan said as she finalized the agreed upon design, making sure to note the alterations that would need to be made due to Sasha’s prosthetic. Sasha nodded, agreeing to that. 

"I’ll talk it through with her once the forging is done," Sasha agreed. "Thank you goran." Ruusaan nodded with a smile, and Sasha went on to his next task of the morning. Just as well, because less than an hour later Fenn slipped into the forge. 

"If it’s what I think it is, his business is with me," Sabine said, and Ruusaan nodded. 

"It is," Fenn said, pulling off his helmet with a smile. "Goran," he greeted, dipping his head respectfully. "I intend to court Alexsandr, Sabine said she might have some ideas on a good gift for him."

"Ah," Ruusaan said. "She’s about up to making a knife, yes." Fenn laughed softly. "Provided it’s a common style. I haven’t yet taught her how to set a blade in a vibrating hilt." 

"That’s sufficient," Fenn promised, and then produced a weighty chunk of ore. He held it out to Sabine, who accepted, bringing the mineral into the light.

"Fenn," Sabine said in quiet wonder, because she’d never before seen beskar in its rawest form, but she was certain that was what he’d placed into her hands. 

"Now that is a gift of value," Ruusaan said appreciatively. "May I?" Fenn nodded, and Ruusaan accepted the ore from Sabine, running her scanner over it. "Concordian?" she asked, reading the scans. Fenn nodded again. 

"A sample of my prize taken during the siege," Fenn said, and Ruusaan whistled softly. 

"I would hear the story," Ruusaan said. "We will have to send it out to be smelted, but the weapon should know its history." 

Fenn smiled, and sat, and spun the tale of how the Protectors had answered Duchess Satine’s call for aid when Death Watch launched their coup. He had led his fighting wing over Concordia, then down to Manda’yaim itself. When the Nite Owls had split away, he had worked alongside Lady Bo-Katan to retake Sundari from Maul and his minions, and for his trouble, he had been granted a small amount of unrefined beskar, taken from the Concordian mines of House Vizsla. 

While Fenn talked, Ruusaan gave Sabine readings on how to refine crude ore into usable metal. Such was the work of a foundry rather than a forge like theirs, but the knowledge would further Sabine’s understanding of the capabilities of beskar, its strengths and weaknesses. Pure beskar was rarely used, and so once the ore was refined, it would be alloyed with other minerals and metals. After looking through the properties of the various options, Sabine selected a high carbon alloy she thought would suit well for forging a blade. Ruusaan nodded, indicating Sabine had chosen correctly, then gave her readings on the other materials. 

"So what kind of knife do you want us to make for you?" Sabine asked, setting the chunk of ore aside. Fenn grinned, then pulled the biggest knife Sabine had ever seen out of his boot. "Fuck me," Sabine swore, staring at it. Ruusaan just laughed. 

"You Concord Dawn fuckers and your fuck-off huge knives," Ruusaan said fondly. "There’s enough for it, with the ore you gave us."

"It’s a simple utility knife," Fenn said with false innocence, as if Sabine couldn’t tell the thing was express-made for knife-fighting. 

Sabine shook her head, bemused, then went to the terminal and scrolled through the database until she found the entry for the appropriate mould to form a knife blank in that type. The blade itself would come to 25 cm in length, and was 5 cm wide. The first five centimetres were sharpened on both sides, the spine ground down to a wicked curve toward the point. It was full tanged, with a crossbar handguard. 

"He’s going to like it," Sabine promised, then held out her hand for Fenn’s blade. "May I?" Fenn nodded, and deftly flipped the knife in his hand, offering it to her hilt first. "Thank you," Sabine said, hefting it. Despite its size and weight, the knife was perfectly balanced. She inspected it closely, seeing how the blade was honed, and the guard set on. "Fittings?" Sabine asked, handing the knife back to Fenn, who sheathed it and slid it into his boot. 

"Veshok is traditional for the handle, stained dark, or shatual horn if you can get a piece big enough," Fenn said. "The flat should be etched to match this," he continued, tapping the geometric design over the t-slit of his helmet. 

"And you’ll need a smith’s stamp to mark the tang," Ruusaan reminded. Sabine nodded. She was planning to use her starbird motif as her stamp, but hadn’t formed it yet. 

"I’ll leave you to it," Fenn said, and rose. "Keep anything leftover after you’ve formed the blade as payment." Sabine nodded. For the rest of the morning, Ruusaan programmed the pneumatic hammer to the specifications for Sasha’s beskar’gam while Sabine worked on the knife design for Fenn. It wasn’t terribly complicated, but she wanted to put in her best work, wanted Fenn to have a spectacular courtship gift for Sasha.

It took Sabine a few days of careful work once the ore came back from the foundry, a solid bar of beskar, but she forged a blade she felt proud of. Before any of the finishing work - engraving the flat or fitting the handle - she presented it to Ruusaan for inspection. The experienced goran looked the work over critically, but then nodded, and presented Sabine with the sturdy stamp and a mallet, to be used to sign her first completed work. With a grin, Sabine set her sigil into the tang, then carefully engraved Fenn’s lines into the flat of the blade. 

Ruusaan helped Sabine fit a smooth - but not too smooth - veshok wood handle to the tang, riveting it fast under the crossguard, then fitting a counterweight to the butt-end to balance the weight of the blade. All put together, it was an impressive weapon, and Sabine knew that for a pilot like Fenn, this was their ultimate defense, should they go down behind enemy lines. For a brawler like Sasha, it would be an excellent backup blade.

Sabine quietly slipped the knife to Fenn as soon as it was finished, wondering what Sasha would use to reciprocate. There was no doubt in her mind that Sasha would accept Fenn; they clearly respected and admired one another, and enjoyed one another’s company. With things in the galaxy the way they were, that was worth holding onto.

A few days after Sabine finished the knife, Ruusaan finished Sasha’s armour. It would just need the final fitting and painting, and Sasha still had a few decisions to make on what he wanted loaded into his gauntlets. The plates and helmet were done aside from the electronics, and that would be fairly easy for a goran of Ruusaan’s calibre. Instead of just doing the work herself, Ruusaan had Sabine help, showing her how to solder the leads into place and shield them. Hands on work was one of the best ways to learn, and Ruusaan ensured that Sabine could perform each skill to the highest level. 

As soon as the last of the wiring had been laid in, they summoned Sasha to the forge, and told him to bring his flight suit. It didn’t take him long to arrive, and they helped him suit up for the first time. The fit was perfect, the beskar plates gleaming against the deep black of his flight suit as they formed his second skin. They explained the standard electronics, and showed him the ports so he could load programs like the targeting system Sabine used, linking her viewfinder to her blaster pistols. 

Once all the innards were settled, and they agreed the fit was right, Sabine took the armour back to do the final detailing. As Sasha had requested, most of the plates were finished to a matte black. On one pauldron, Sabine painted her signature starbird in matte grey, the predominant shade used on her mother and brother’s armour, outlining it in white. On the other, Sasha requested a glossy black keyn’s head with white outline, his own acknowledgment of their Imperial past. Sabine detailed the Fulcrum symbol over the chest plate in gloss black, the central hollow diamond framing Sasha’s kar'ta beskar. She outlined the curling designs prevalent among the Wren Clan on his helmet in fine golden lines. 

With the paint dry, Sasha pulled the finished beskar’gam on for the first time. 

"You sure you aren’t one of those death-cult weirdos who worships Vader?" Sabine asked. The nearly solid black armour was intimidating, and would definitely remind everyone who saw it that Sasha had killed a Deathtrooper commando for their armour. Sasha laughed, and Sabine heard him in stereo, the sound carried both between their in-helmet comm systems and out of his vocoder. 

"Very sure," Sasha said. "Look okay other than that?"

"I mean, you already know I would have slapped a lot more colour on there if you gave me free rein, but it looks good," Sabine affirmed. "Ready to go show everyone?"

"Lek," Sasha said, and Sabine grinned inside her helmet. She turned back to Ruusaan, but the goran waved them off. Sasha slung his bo-rifle across his back, settled his blaster pistols into the thigh holsters and his dagger into one of the vambraces, and they went together back up to the compound. When they walked across from the hanger, the fighters training in the yard stopped to stare, and Sabine couldn’t help but be a little proud, both of her brother and the armour she’d helped build for him. 

Unsurprisingly, Fenn was the first to come over and greet them. He raised his arm, and Sabine raised hers, clacking their vambraces together. Fenn and Sasha greeted one another the same way, although they also let their arms settle together, hand-plates clicking in a gentle kiss. Tristan arrived a moment later, and like Fenn greeted them by clicking vambraces.

"So are you cleared for training?" Tristan asked, clearly wanting to measure himself against a more experienced fighter. Sasha let out a low chuckle. 

"I have an appointment tomorrow that will hopefully clear me for contact," Sasha said. "I’m more than happy to hit the range, I’ll need to get used to the helmet." He reached up, tapping his fingers against the side of his bucket. Tristan nodded, and led Sasha away, talking about the various systems he had loaded into his buy’ce. 

"Better give him that knife soon," Sabine warned, not entirely teasing. Fenn nodded, watching Sasha walk away. "Ugh," Sabine sighed audibly. "You’re the _worst_ Fenn." Fenn nodded again. 

Sabine pushed him, hard, and he stumbled slightly to the side, but his eyes didn’t leave Sasha’s armoured back. Giving up, Sabine headed into the house, leaving Fenn to moon after Sasha. There was plenty of work to be done as a scion of Clan Wren, and so she settled in at her mother’s side for the rest of the day, talking through accounts and incomes, and how those things related to the wider political scene in the Mando sector.

* * *

For a little while, Sabine could just enjoy being among her clan, and helping Sasha settle into the family. She learned from Ba’vodu Ruusaan in the forge, and her mother at the strategy table. She trained with the warriors, and flew patrol with the other pilots. There were missions too, either flying on Mand’alor Kryze’s wings or fighting at her side. As much as Sabine did enjoy it, she wasn’t too upset when she received a call from General Draven on Yavin IV, saying the Rebellion still had work for Fulcrum if she and Sasha were willing, and Sasha had been cleared by the doctors.

"I was hoping you would stay with us, now that your brother is here," Ursa said carefully when Sabine had finished her conversation with Draven. She didn’t look over at Sabine, instead continuing to watch Fenn and Sasha as they sparred on the training ground below the balcony where the two women stood. Sabine shook her head. Ursa had left the office while Sabine spoke to Draven, but she’d clearly understood that Sabine and Sasha were being recalled to action.

"I wish I could," Sabine said. "There’s so much to learn. But how could I stay here, safe among my people, when so many are still fighting for their freedom from the Empire’s tyranny?" Ursa sighed, smiling slightly and shaking her head. "I _will_ come back to you," Sabine promised, reaching out to cover her mother’s hand with her own and squeeze gently.

"I have already spoken to the Mand’alor," Ursa said, dipping her head. "She is pleased to send Clan Wren’s fighters who wish to serve at your side to fight the enemy without, and she and the others will continue fighting the enemies within. She mentioned a dreadnought that could be made flight-ready on short notice, to house the wing so you wouldn’t be dependant on rebel command for berths." Sabine nodded, her admiration for Bo-Katan swelling. "Your ba’vodu intends to go with you and the fighters, to see to their armour." 

"And my education?" Sabine guessed, glancing over. Ursa dipped her head. 

"And your education," Ursa acknowledged. "I am proud to see you taking up the hammer, and so is your father." Sabine felt her cheeks heat, and looked back down at the training yards, where Fenn had Sasha pinned on his back, and was taking advantage of the position to rest their foreheads together in a Mando kiss. Sabine had long been interested in armour and armouring, and now that she had begun her training as a goran, she was full of ideas on how to improve their beskar’gam. 

"You won’t miss her services if we’re gone for some time?"

"We will, but she has trained others before you, and they can take up the slack," Ursa assured. 

Sabine nodded, unsurprised. Those who forged the protection the Mando’ade depended on had always been highly respected in the community. When the practice had been outlawed under Gar Saxon to control the always free-thinking Mando populace, goran’e had only become more integral to their culture, more protected in their secret underground forges. The goran’e not only provided them with the means to protect themselves, but also helped to pass on their culture, their language, their ways. While Sabine was not yet tired of fighting, she enjoyed creating too, bringing things of beauty and protection into the world.

On the training ground below, Fenn straightened slightly, but didn’t move off Sasha. The movement drew Sabine’s eye; she knew that if Sasha wanted, he could easily dislodge Fenn. The pilot was a good fighter, but Sasha was in a whole other class, and significantly outweighed Fenn. A moment later, she understood why Sasha had remained still. Fenn offered the gleaming knife between them, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Sasha accepted. At Sabine’s side, Ursa sighed. 

"We only just adopted him," Ursa groused. Sabine laughed softly. 

"Fenn’s been wanting to do that for a while," Sabine said, and Ursa nodded. Likely she’d noticed the flirtation between them too, Sabine knew her mother was keenly observant. She had to be, to ensure the Clan’s survival. 

"So do you think Sasha will become a Rau? Or Fenn a Wren?" Ursa mused. "Sasha Rau sounds better than Fenn Wren."

"They might both keep their own names," Sabine suggested, because that wasn’t terribly uncommon, and Ursa shook her head. 

"Not those two," Ursa said, voice wise with experience. "They’ll want to be a unit. Sasha’s very touched to be a Wren, but he understands it’s not really the name that makes him one of us. Fenn would likely let the Rau name die if he thought Sasha was attached to the Wren name, but I’ll put a credit or two on Sasha becoming a Rau." Put like that, Sabine had to accede to her mother’s logic. "How soon do you have to leave?" she asked. "We should have some sort of betrothal party for them."

"It’ll take a couple days to get everything packed and prepared, and I don’t know when the Mand’alor’s ship will be ready for us," Sabine said thoughtfully. "Is that enough time?" Ursa nodded. 

"It’ll have to be," Ursa said, and turned, heading back inside to start making plans. "I hope Sasha has something suitable for Fenn," she said as she went in. Sabine followed after a moment, to begin her own preparations. The starfighters would have to be fuelled, and the wing split so that the entire air defenses weren’t leaving Krownest unprotected. The pilots would need to get their gear in order, and Draven hadn’t been clear how long Sabine and Sasha might be needed. She would need to contact the Mand’alor about what she would need to do to get the loaned ship ready - the list went on.

A few days later, Sabine noticed Fenn had on a new kama of sturdy, flame-proof armourweave in the same rich blue as his buy’ce and shoulder bells, rather than the plain black one he’d worn previously. There was even a touch of gold at the waist where it fastened. Sabine smiled to herself. That was certainly a suitable courting gift for a Mando pilot.

With everyone in the compound working hard to get the flight wing ready for departure, the betrothal party itself was a chance for everyone to let loose, and for those going to fight to be sent off with style. There was good food and a great deal of alcohol, and before long someone produced a bes’bev, and someone else started stomping out a dancing rhythm. Some partners danced hand in hand and chest to chest, but dancing circles formed too, groups of friends slinging their arms over one another’s shoulders and whirling around to the music until they were laughing and stumbling. 

Everyone toasted to Sasha and Fenn, to Clan Wren, to the Mand’alor, to a free Manda’yaim and the downfall of the Empire. Sabine happily raised her glass each time a toast was proposed, although she paced her alcohol consumption. In the morning, they would load up their dreadnought and make for the rebel base, so she wouldn’t have the time or energy to nurse a hangover from too much partying. The time here on Krownest had been more than welcome, but she was ready to get back to the fight. 

Two weeks after Draven first contacted Sabine, the Mando dreadnought Ca’senaar settled into orbit over Yavin IV. Fenn and most of the fighters would remain aloft as a discrete air group under Fenn’s command, as the Ce’senaar was too large to land on the rebel airfield, and there wasn’t enough room for their squadron of Fang fighters and kom’rk gunships. After a little bit of back and forth with air control, Sabine had a kom’rk ready to take her and Sasha dirt-side to resume their roles as rebel intelligence officers.

Fenn and the pilots were soon hot-shotting around, talking trash with the other flight groups over comms. Sabine and Sasha watched bemusedly, but stayed out of the posturing. They had plenty of work to do in intel without getting involved in that sort of rivalry. Each night, Sasha and Sabine returned to the Ca’senaar, Sasha and Fenn bunking together.

While they had been on Krownest, their fellow intel agents had picked up the slack. It took a bit of reading, but soon Sasha and Sabine were back in the thick of things, combing through transmissions and decrypting messages, parsing data for patterns they could use. With so many rebel cells converging on Yavin IV, a large part of their work was just ensuring that the Empire didn’t track them down. 

As more and more cells joined them on Yavin, they periodically rotated back to Krownest, either for brief rest leaves or to answer the Mand’alor’s call. On one such visit back to the Wren compound, Fenn and Sasha exchanged their vows. Their courtship had been fairly short, but with the dangers they faced daily, they wanted their relationship given the additional weight of marriage. The party after was even larger than their betrothal celebration, the numbers boosted by the all rebels in attendance for the occasion. Sabine even thought she saw Mand’alor Kryze go off with General Syndulla and Jedi Knight Jarrus, but she would also admit she’d had a fair bit of tihaar by that point in the night. 

Sabine had a terrific hangover come morning. When she stumbled down to the kitchen, Fenn and Sasha were drinking shig together, and Sabine was eminently glad that they were already in their beskar’gam, because even with the undersuits that came up nearly to their chins, she could see the edges of some terrific bite marks on both their necks, and she really didn’t want to know about that sort of thing. They were together, and she was happy for them, but she didn’t want to know anything at all about what they got up to out of their armour. 

"Su’cuy," Sasha greeted, although he thankfully kept his voice down in deference to her obvious hangover. Sabine just grunted, then stole his mug of shig and sipped at the hot beverage. Sasha laughed softly, then turned to nuzzle into Fenn’s hair when Fenn mumbled something at him. Sabine wrinkled her nose. They were disgustingly cute.

After the wedding, it was back to Yavin, and back to work. They analyzed intelligence, crunched data, trained other intelligence officers, and occasionally went on missions themselves. With neither Sabine nor Sasha terribly willing to be out of beskar’gam, they didn’t see a lot of undercover action. They were both superb fighters, but their skills and knowledge as former Imperial Security were far more valuable to the Rebellion. 

For the most part, Sabine didn’t mind being so far behind the lines. She had been learning how to direct troops from a distance from her mother for years. When she did have an itch that could only be scratched by pounding someone’s face in, either she would spar with Sasha or with one of the other Clan Wren warriors. They all respected her enough not to pull their punches, and the adrenaline rush of a good fight was usually enough to settle her.

* * *

Missions came and went, small victories were won, small skirmishes lost. A few more Jedi or former Jedi trickled in, as did more Imperial defectors. Sabine watched with quiet amusement as Sasha appointed himself the welcoming committee for the defectors, helping them get situated and answering their questions. 

It was into that chaotic but familiar environment that General Draven announced that an Imperial cargo pilot had gone rogue, and there were rumours that he had information smuggled out of a top secret weapons research facility. The intelligence branch kicked into high gear, combing every transmission they could get their hands on in hope of locating the defector, Bodhi Rook, before the Empire tracked him down and plugged their leak.

"Latest intel puts our defector at Jedha. Where Saw Gerrera’s partisans are based," Sasha said grimly a few days after Rook’s missing poster hit the net. Sabine felt her jaw clench.

"Jedha’s a blacksite so dark it makes Geonosis look positively cheery," Sabine grumbled. "I’ll take a kom’rk, I know if you’re on the same planet as Gerrera there’ll be blood." Sasha huffed a laugh, but nodded. 

"Take some other ground fighters with you - see if you can get some of the Free Ryloth troops, it’ll be sandy down there," Sasha warned, clearly anticipating trouble. "Draven is sending Cassian to pick up a related package, but get to Rook as quick as you can. Gerrera won’t be gentle trying to get the poor bastard to talk." 

Sabine waved him off, but took the suggestion. A few moments with the personnel files, and Sabine knew who she needed to speak to. She quickly but deftly navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the ancient structure they had repurposed as their base. Double checking her ‘pad to make sure she had the correct room, Sabine knocked at the door. There was a moment of scuffling, and then the door hissed open. Within stood a female Twi’lek with teal skin and bright pink eyes, arms crossed over her chest. She was dressed simply in brown dungarees and a black form-fitting top that covered her torso from neck to wrists. Her head was covered with an equally fitted black wrap.

"Yes?" the Twi’lek greeted tersely, and Sabine couldn’t help smiling slightly.

"Numa’shala?" Sabine asked, just to be sure. The Twi’lek matched the image in the file, but it never hurt to double check. 

"That’s me," Numa said in lightly accented Basic, "and just Numa is fine, you’re butchering my clan name." Sabine nodded. She’d thought her Ryl was better than that, but evidently it needed some practice. 

"I’ll work on it," Sabine promised. "I’m Sabine Wren, intelligence. We’re getting rumours an Imp cargo pilot’s gone AWOL with some valuable data." 

"You’re putting together a retrieval team?" Numa asked, eyes brightening. 

"I’m putting together a team," Sabine said with a confirming nod. "Intel has our runner on Jedha - it’s a cold desert world, and I was hoping you could help me put together a team of Free Ryloth veterans." Numa nodded, smiling slightly as her arms uncrossed. 

"Come in, and tell me about it," Numa said, stepping back from the doorway and allowing Sabine to enter. 

The room within was small, with single person bunks for four, and a few personal belongings tidied into their places. A bright purple and yellow striped crochet blanket was spread over one bed, and a small flat-holo of two clone troopers in full armour with a little Twi’lek child was tacked to the wall. A drop cloth filled much of the floor, and on it an old but well serviced DC-15 rifle was partially assembled, a cleaning kit laid out alongside.

"Sit," Numa directed, waving Sabine toward the bunk with the striped blanket. Sabine sat, pulling off her buy’ce and setting it at her side. Numa smiled at that, and returned to cleaning and reassembling her weapon.

"We’ll need to bring a decent sized team," Sabine said, offering her ‘pad with the relevant information pulled up. Numa looked, hands still moving, but didn’t reach for the ‘pad. "Jedha City is large, and that’s probably where our defector will be." Numa nodded, looking over the map. 

"The people there speak Basic?" Numa asked, and Sabine nodded. 

"Probably other languages too, but we’ll be able to get by on Basic," Sabine said.

"We’ll need some of the more cool-headed fighters," Numa said thoughtfully, "ones who won’t pick a fight with the stormtroopers." Sabine chuffed softly, but nodded. 

"That was my thought too," Sabine agreed. "You’re in then?" 

Numa looked up, the light catching in her rosy eyes, and she smiled fiercely. "I’m in," she said firmly. 

"How quickly can we put a team together?" Sabine asked, watching the deft, practiced motions with which Numa handled her weapon. Numa cocked her head slightly, her long lekku swinging gracefully behind her back. 

"I can have a list of candidates by morning," Numa said thoughtfully. She finished with her weapon, then placed it to the side. 

"Alright, we’ll brief at 0800. If we get enough volunteers on board, we’ll leave tomorrow," Sabine said, mentally running her own checklist. She nodded. Speed was of the essence. Her kom’rk was kept ready on the Ca’senaar, it would only need her usual pre-mission checks. 

In the morning, Sabine piloted herself to the surface in her kom’rk, all her pre-mission checks completed. Her astromech R4-D12 had the necessary coordinates and data. All that remained was ensuring they had a team of appropriate size. More than a dozen, less than two dozen, Sabine thought, and Sasha had agreed when they talked it out over caf. 

At the appointed time, Numa was at the landing field, a large group of Twi’lek waiting with her. Numa wore similar gear as the day before, supplemented with dark brown torso armour, and an old GAR pauldron, rerebrace, vambrace and gauntlet. A tan kerchief was tied around her head, and long black cloth tubes had been pulled over the majority of her lekku. She looked ready for war. Sabine couldn’t help but smile at the sight. 

"Good morning," Sabine greeted. "I’m Sabine Wren, intelligence. I have up to 24 slots open for a snatch mission to Jedha. An Imp pilot’s gone off the grid, and rumour has it he has a lot of angry people on his tail. We get him first, we find out what the Empire wants him dead over. This mission will hopefully be non-combat. There is an Imperial presence on Jedha, so if someone will clock you as a rebel, you need to sit this one out."

There was some quiet grumbling at that, but they soon sorted themselves out. Sabine finished her briefing, and within half an hour, she had a ship full of Twi’lek rebels and a flight plan filed for Jedha. 

The desert moon was nearly half the galaxy away, and it took a few days to traverse the distance, even in a highly modified kom’rk like Sabine’s. She spent the time getting to know the team that had volunteered for the mission. They were all veterans who had come up under Cham’syndulla, dedicated to a free Ryloth and the destruction of the Empire. Both, Sabine thought, were admirable goals. 

There was a massive Imperial Star Destroyer hovering over the main city on Jedha when the kom’rk dropped out of hyperspace, and Sabine swore softly at the sight of it. She tapped at her console, then smirked as the electronic countermeasures deployed, hiding them from scanners. 

"We’re good unless they get eyes on us, I’ll get us as close to the city as we can," Sabine said, and took them in. It was a dustball of a place, and Sabine couldn’t help but think of the barren moon of Concord Dawn where Fenn had been stationed with the Protectors. "Alright. Stay with your partners, check in once an hour, and good hunting, let’s bring him in real gentle," Sabine directed when she’d set down the ship. She rose, and her partner for the mission fell in step as they headed out. 

It had made sense for Sabine to partner with Numa. She was the leader of the Twi’lek fighters and would know how to dispense any information Sabine caught on the ground. Numa was also, Sabine had to admit, one of the most beautiful beings Sabine had ever met. Sabine was trying to keep a lid on that, directing her focus on their mission. She had brought 20 rebels to Jedha. She intended to leave with 21.

They combed through the dusty streets and bustling city for hours. Despite probably being the only Mando on the moon, Sabine didn’t stand out too much - there were thousands of people in a multitude of costumes, many of which covered their faces. So long as they avoided Imperial troops, they should be fine. The poncho over her brilliantly painted armour probably helped too, although it did nothing to disguise her distinctive t-slit buy’ce.

"Contact," a tinny voice came through the comm after nearly half a day of searching. Coordinates followed. 

"Converge and form a loose perimeter, I’ll talk to him," Sabine directed. She and Numa shared a nod, and then they were on their way. Rook was tucked away at a chai stand on a side street near one of the gates out of the high walled city. They’d likely reached him just before he headed out into the deserts where Gerrera’s partisans made their lair. Sabine nodded minutely to her compatriots as she approached, then settled at Rook’s side, pulling off her helmet and letting him see her face. Her hair was different than when she’d served the Empire, cropped short and dyed purple, but there was a very slim chance he’d recognize her. Rook startled when she sat, but didn’t seem any more unnerved by her presence than he might have if it had been Numa who joined him. 

"Hot chai, spicy and sweet," Sabine ordered. She placed a credit chit on the table, then glanced at Rook. His dark eyes darted up and down the alley, looking for escape routes. "I don’t know if you’ll have heard of me," Sabine said more quietly once the tea-seller had turned away from them. "But I'm called Fulcrum. I’m a rebel agent, and I’ve been sent to bring you to safety." One of the Twi’leks melted out of the shadows, more visibly standing guard. 

"I was told to find Saw Gerrera," Rook admitted nervously. Sabine nodded. 

"We assumed you might have been. But Saw doesn’t play well with the rest of the Rebellion, even when it might better advance our cause. I’m not going to pretend this will be easy. But I defected more than a year ago now, and I was an informant for a long time before that. I’m pretty confident in my ability to keep you safe," Sabine said. She glanced over, taking in the shock that was so clearly displayed on Rook’s expressive face. "And before that, well," she said, and tapped the stylized keyn on her pauldron. 

"ISB?" Rook tentatively identified, and Sabine nodded. Rather to her surprise, that had the defector relaxing slightly. At least the Bureau’s intimidating reputation was good for something. "Right, okay. Uh. Right. I - okay. Let’s go I guess?" he said, and Sabine laughed, then slugged back the too-hot chai before putting her helmet back on. She pulled off her poncho, and handed it to Rook, who was still in an Imperial pilot’s uniform. He gave a nervous smile, then pulled the poncho on. 

"My friends are going to pull back to the ship," Sabine said quietly. "I’m going to walk a little behind you, like I’m bringing you in for a bounty. Keep your head down, because the Empire would rather arrest you themselves than pay a bounty hunter." Rook nodded, and they set out on one of the longest walks of Sabine’s life. 

Numa fell in before long, not walking too close, pausing occasionally, or walking a bit faster to pull ahead. Sabine knew that some of the others were around them as well, maintaining the loose periphery she had requested. Finally, they converged back on the ship, and Sabine led Rook to the cockpit, where she could keep an eye on him. 

"Get everyone settled in," Sabine asked Numa, "and then get on the guns in case they notice us." Numa grinned and nodded, heading back into the troop carrier compartment to take a headcount. 

"All accounted for," Numa said after a few moments, and Sabine eased them into the atmosphere. Sabine held her breath until they broke from Jedha’s gravity, and then she was punching them into hyperspace. 

"Alright," Sabine announced into the ship-wide intercom. "We’re away clean, but I’m going to take us on a few extra jumps before we go back to base." She glanced over at Rook, who looked like he was about to hyperventilate. Sabine could relate to that. The first few times passing info had been nerve-wracking to the extreme, and only having Sasha at her side had kept her from freaking out. And Rook wasn’t just passing info. He’d taken a stack of data and defected. Pretty gutsy for a cargo pilot nobody had heard of. 

"I’m descended from a Rook," Sabine said, taking off her helmet. The defector looked over, blinking at the non-sequitur. Sabine smiled. "Delina Rook, this was her armour," she explained, tapping her chestplate. "She won it in a fight, and when she married into the clan she brought it with her." Rook nodded. 

"I’m no Mandalorian. I’m from Jedha," Rook blurted out. 

"I know," Sabine said, glad just to have got him talking. That - and preventing a panic attack - was her goal. "Your family, are they safe?"

"They’re all gone," Rook said, shaking his head. "There’s no one left for them to hurt, hunting me." Sabine nodded, seeing how that could be an incentive of its own. 

"It’ll be a few days back to base, get comfy," Sabine said. "You’re welcome up here in the cockpit, but not alone." Rook hesitated, then nodded. "When we drop out of hyperspace in a few hours to adjust our vectors, you can talk to base if that would help. I need to call in and let them know we found you." 

Rook nodded again. Sabine smiled, thinking he reminded her of the cadets she’d helped defect from Skystrike. He hadn’t trained there, she knew, only TIE pilots did. But he seemed younger than his years - he was only a year or two younger than her, but she couldn’t help comparing him to Tristan, who was even younger. Then again, that might just be the shock.

As promised, when they dropped out of hyperspace, Sabine commed Yavin base. She spoke to Sasha first, rapidly updating him in Mando’a. When they had reassured one another, Sasha handed the comm off to General Draven. 

"Fulcrum Three," Draven greeted. "Report."

"We’ve secured the package and are on our way back to base," Sabine said. "We’re taking a bit of a longer way there, just in case." Draven was silent for a long moment. 

"Copy," Draven finally said. "Fulcrum Four reported in, success." Sabine grinned at that. 

"Copy. We’ll see you in a few days, Fulcrum Three out."

"Solid copy."

"Fulcrum Four?" Rook asked curiously. Sabine grinned. 

"There are a few Fulcrum agents," Sabine said, because that wasn’t too big of a secret. "One of them was assigned to get Erso’s daughter out of prison." Rook blinked, then let out a low whistle. Having served the Empire for a few years, he was likely aware of how hard it would be to escape an Imperial prison.

When they arrived at Yavin, Fenn was the Commander of the Air Group on duty, and he talked them down to the landing pad in warm Mando’a. Sabine responded in kind, and if their conversation wasn’t all business, well, most of the other people to hear it were either friends or people who couldn’t understand Mando’a. 

"Alright Rook," Sabine said when she’d finished her checks. She rose, and guided Rook from the ship with a gentle hand on the shoulder. Sasha was waiting for them on the edge of the airfield. Sabine crossed to him, and they clicked their vambraces together in greeting.

"Su’cuy," Sasha said, and pulled her into a hug. She leaned up, bumping helmets affectionately in greeting. 

"Su’cuy," Sabine returned, and then they stepped back slightly. "This is Bodhi Rook. Rook, this is Fulcrum Two." Sasha reached up and pulled off his helmet at that; he knew that most people weren't very reassured talking to a Mando's t-slit helmet. As Sabine had predicted, he’d taken to shaving his cheeks and clipping the hair on the sides of his head now that he was in a closed helmet everyday, although he still wore the hair on the top of his head nearly chin length. Today he’d caught it back in a little topknot at the back of his head.

"Shit," Rook said, "you too?"

Sasha huffed at that, not too surprised to be recognized given how high he’d risen in the ranks of ISB, and how well publicized the slaughter at Lasan had been. "I take it Fulcrum Three introduced herself as former ISB?" Sasha asked, offering his hand. Rook nodded, taking Sasha’s hand. Sasha dipped his head. "Then yes, me too. Sabine was my partner, and we defected together. I answer to either Fulcrum, Rau, or Sasha." 

"Draven said Fulcrum Four had success?" Sabine asked, following along as Sasha led Rook towards the intelligence hub of the base. Sasha nodded.

"They snatched her a couple days ago, but they’ve got further to travel. At least they don’t have to detour to Jedha now," Sasha said, shrugging slightly. Sabine nodded. Breaking Erso out would attract attention, but hopefully it would take the Empire a little time to realize they also had Rook. The prison break might even pull attention away from Rook’s actual path.

"ETA?" Sabine asked. 

"Not sure," Sasha admitted. "They were taking the long way too, and I don’t know how many extra jumps K2 will calculate." Sabine snorted. Sasha paused, checking if the small room he’d led them too was free. It wasn’t anything like an Imperial interrogation room - there were no torture droids, for a start - but it served well enough for the Rebellion. "I’ll be handling your debrief, if you want Sabine to stay, that’s fine. If you don’t, I’m going to send her to debrief our boss."

Rook looked between the two of them, waffling. 

"I don’t mind staying," Sabine assured him.

"I - I can do it," Rook said, "thanks." He still looked about half a heartbeat from a panic attack, but that only raised Sabine’s admiration for the man. She dipped her head. 

"Alright," Sabine said, and went to update Draven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a:**  
>  Ba'jur, beskar'gam, ara'nov, aliit, Mando'a bal Mand'alor - an vencuyan mhi = “Education, armour, Self-defence, clan, Our language, our leader - All help us survive." The Resol’nare or “six actions” integral to Mando culture  
> Ba'vodu = aunt or uncle  
> Cabur = protector  
> Cuy’val dar = "those who no longer exist" Bounty hunters and mercenaries, mostly Mando, recruited by Jango Fett to serve as the trainers for the clone troopers on Kamino.  
> Dha'kad = Darksaber  
> Gar oya’karir kar’tayl = you hunt knowledge  
> Gar urmankalar Resol’nare = you believe in the Resol'nare  
> Elek = yes  
> Jate = good  
> Kaysh suvarir ori’shya kih = he understands more than a little  
> Kih = small (a little)  
> Lek = yeah  
> Mandokarla = having the *right stuff*, showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue  
> Meshgeroya = limmie or bolo-ball - literally the beautiful game, a Mandalorian obsession  
> Nasaad entye = not any debt  
> Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad = adoption vow - lit. I know your name as my child  
> Su'cuy = hi  
> Su cuy'gar Alor'ika / goran = Hello little leader / armourer  
> Suvarir Mando'a = (You) understand Mando'a  
> Suvarir Resol'nare = (You) understand the Resol’nare (six actions of Mando culture)  
> Tihaar = alcoholic drink - strong clear spirit made from fruit, like eau de vie  
> Vor entye = thank you lit. I accept a debt


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refer to the Death Star as "Stardust" throughout, since that is the codename assigned to the project by Galen Erso, and in this AU, his message is delivered directly to the Rebellion so they knew the project by that name.

Sabine had finished her debrief and settled in to write the official report when Sasha and Rook reappeared a few hours later. Sasha barely paused, leading Rook through the intel hub to Draven’s office. They were still inside when she finished her write-up, so she gathered her datapad and went over to the door, knocking softly. A little to her surprise, Draven called for her to enter. 

"Sir," Sabine said simply, and put the datapad on his desk. 

"Wren," Draven acknowledged. "Round everyone up, this is -" he paused, and shook his head. Sabine looked him over carefully - he looked even more stressed than usual, which was saying something. 

"Sir," Sabine said, and went to do as ordered. 

When the subsequent meeting ended, Sabine was floored. There had been hints: the eradication of the Geonosians after _something_ massive was built in orbit; the enormous kyber crystal the Ghost crew had destroyed with Gerrera’s help; she was sure there were other pieces of the puzzle she wasn’t remembering, or didn’t know. But her mind was struggling to think of anything else as she stared at the schematic of a massive weapons platform - a planet killer. 

Knowledge of the planet killer swept the base. News that big was impossible to keep secret. Tension and worry began mounting, and the Imperial defectors started sticking closer to the intel hub and any other place the Mando’ade congregated - any place they knew that Sabine, Sasha, and their armament were at the ready. As both a defector and the intelligence asset who’d brought them the dire news, Bodhi stuck closer than most to Sasha and Sabine, and Sasha even arranged for the pilot to bunk on the Ca’senaar.

"Is it true?" Numa asked the next day as she sat down across from Sabine in the mess, her tray clattering slightly against the metal tabletop. Sabine looked up, raising an eyebrow in silent question. "Is it true, that the Imps are building a planet killer?" Sabine hesitated, but that tooka was already out of the bag. She nodded. Numa swore softly in Ryl. 

"My thoughts exactly," Sabine said dryly, and Numa snorted a humourless little laugh. Reaching across the table, Sabine nudged their fingers together. "We’ll figure it out," she said, not fully confident, but needing to believe it was possible. Numa nodded firmly.

"We’ve come this far, the Emperor cannot stop us now," Numa agreed, wrapping her fingers around Sabine’s and squeezing briefly before concentrating back on her meal. Sabin blushed, but didn't pull her hand away from where their fingers slotted together on the table. They finished their trays in silence, and when Sabine rose and went back to work, she paused and rested her hand for a moment on Numa’s unarmoured shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. Numa reached up, patting her hand. Feeling as if her cheeks might actually catch fire from the heat in her skin, Sabine strode from the room.

Alderaanian Viceroy Bail Organa, one of the main funders of the Rebellion, soon arrived to confer with their leader Mon Mothma, with whom he’d once served in the Republican Senate. The result of their meeting wasn’t made public until a few weeks later, after Fulcrum Four had returned with Jyn Erso. In the interim, Sabine, Sasha, and their compatriots in the intel division were hard at work with the data Bodhi had brought them. Bodhi spent most of his time in the intel hub with them, answering questions. When Fulcrum Four did return, Sasha and Sabine made a point of greeting Cassian Andor as his fellow Fulcrum agents.

Unlike Bodhi, who had given no indication that he wanted to leave Yavin and strike out on his own, or even return to occupied Jedha in search of his childhood community, Jyn Erso was confrontational from her first debriefing onward. She had no desire to help the Rebellion - just wanted to keep her head down and take the opportunity she’d been granted to start over. Sabine could tell from the set of Cassian’s shoulders when he stalked out of interrogation ahead of Erso and Sasha that he was pissed off. She corralled him into her cubicle, and got a somewhat disjointed after action report. 

"You need a break," Sabine suggested, and Cassian snorted. Sabine shrugged. She’d known even as she made the suggestion that it wouldn’t be accepted. Still, Cassian was her friend and comrade, and she knew Sasha cared for him just as much as she herself did. As intelligence agents personally recruited by the original Fulcrum, the three of them had a thread of camaraderie tying them together. Cassian, as the Fulcrum agent who spent the most time off base, wasn’t very close with anyone, but the other Fulcrums were closer to being his true friends than anyone else save K2-SO.

"At least come up to the Ca’senaar for the night," Sabine insisted. "Sasha’s been worried about you." Cassian nodded. While he’d been wary of the two other Fulcrum agents at first, they’d earned his trust, and aboard the Mando cruiser was one of the few places Cassian felt safe enough to relax, even among other rebels. That night, he found he had company in being fussed over by Sasha - Bodhi Rook was still bunking on the Ca’senaar, and it was clear that Sasha and Sabine had soft spots for their fellow defector. Cassian exchanged a long-suffering look with the Jedhan, but neither really minded too much.

"The girl’s running scared," was Sasha’s analysis on Jyn Erso when he reported to Draven. "I don’t half blame her, she was abandoned to fend for herself like a feral tooka by Gerrera, and hunted by the Empire most of her life." Sasha shrugged at that. "Not sure we can give her anything she wants. Not sure she can give us anything we want. We have the plans, and Rook’s been very helpful about his routes, his cargo, and the location of Galen Erso."

Draven sighed, but nodded. "Get her a copy of her father's message and arrange a new identichip and passage to a safe world through the usual routes," he ordered tiredly. They’d all hoped Jyn Erso might prove a valuable source of intel, but they couldn’t force her cooperation. If she wanted to keep her head down, keep out of the fight, that was her prerogative.

The Alderaanian cruiser Tantive arrived over Yavin IV a week or so after Cassian returned. Aboard was not only the Princess Leia of Alderaan, who ISB had long - and unsuccessfully - tried to link to the rebel cause, but one of the last Jedi of the Republic, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Sabine and Sasha both recognized the Jedi’s name, if for different reasons. 

Kenobi had been one of the heroes of the Battle of Coruscant just before the fall of the Republic. That battle had been Sasha’s first as a member of the Republic Fleet, and he had been in awe of the heroics undertaken by Kenobi and Skywalker in breaking the blockade to defeat the Separatist leader, Count Dooku. Their efforts, Sasha firmly believed, had prevented massive loss of life on Coruscant. 

Sabine’s knowledge of the Jedi was unsurprisingly due to his reputation in the Mando sector. Kenobi had been a known confidante of the pacifist New Mandalorian Satine Kryze before and during her reign as Duchess of Mandalore, and tried to rescue her when she was taken captive at the end of the last war. The attempt had been futile - the Duchess had been killed. 

With the arrival of Organa's backup plan - the Jedi, and his Force sensitive daughter who had begun training with Kenobi, the Rebellion's primary objective was finding and destroying the planet killer, codenamed Project Stardust. Given Bodhi’s information about the ongoing mining operations on Jedha, numerous rebel forces had already been dispatched there, to see if they could disrupt the supply lines of kyber crystals and follow the cargo back to the weapon itself. 

That goal in mind, the intelligence hub was a hive of activity. Wading through data and following up on tips was of the utmost importance. They had to be ready to capitalize on any little slip on the Empire’s part. The fighters stationed on Yavin were infected by the intensity of purpose that emanated from command. Shocktroopers - 'droppers - sparred and compulsively checked their weapons, maintenance crews checked and rechecked the ships they were responsible for, and pilots put in extra simulator hours. 

Sabine took few breaks, although she and Sasha did act as checks against one another’s tendency to overwork. Every so often, one of them would look up and see how the other was faring, and pull them away from their terminal for a cup of caff in the mess hall, or a short nap on one of the cots tucked away in the alcoves of the intel offices, or a spar on the training grounds, depending on what the situation warranted. Occasionally, their other comrades would perform the same service. Cassian was just as bad as Sabine and Sasha, but when the Ghost was on base, Zeb was always happy to chivvy the Fulcrum agents into the mess for a bite to eat. If Fenn could get his boots on the ground, he would drag them all out of the office, and sit on Sasha. And if Sabine was particularly easy to convince when it was Numa who came to cajole her into having a meal or break, that was no one’s business but her own. 

Finally, their diligence paid off. The barest whisper came through an informant deep in the Empire. Tarkin would be testing an important new weapon. The rebels couldn’t verify that it was Project Stardust, but little else fit. While there were a multitude of weapons programs in operation, Stardust was likely the one nearest completion, and Tarkin was highly placed enough to be given command of such a battlestation. 

With the prospect of such a high level Imperial being aboard Stardust, they began to hope that they might destroy the planet killer and Tarkin with the same strike. Bodhi, who had been living on the Ca’senaar and assisting the Mando flight wing, petitioned to formally become part of the squadron of Fang fighters, even if only as a backup. Fenn happily accepted his application, having been impressed with the Jedhan’s skill and bravery from the start. Like Sasha, Fenn had taken Bodhi under his wing as much as Bodhi would allow. 

In depth analysis of the plans Bodhi smuggled out had confirmed what Galen Erso claimed in his message - there was a weakness in the massive battle station. The trouble was, it was a very small weakness, and security would be at an all time high during Tarkin’s test of the weapon. Moreover, they didn’t know exactly where Project Stardust _was_. 

When the call to arms finally came, it came in the form of hurried comm traffic and screaming distress calls as Stardust’s primary weapon - the massive kyber-powered laser-cannon capable of destroying an entire planet in a single shot - was aimed at Alderaan and activated. In the Jedi encampment, Leia Organa went catatonic as her people were destroyed half the galaxy away. The older Jedi understood what had happened even as the comms started squawking - they too had lived through the genocide of their people. 

Faced with that sort of firepower, Mon Mothma decided that they would throw nearly everything they could at Stardust while still sending parts of the fleet in search of a new base to ensure that if they were unsuccessful in their attempt, the Rebellion would not be utterly quashed. The call to arms went out wideband, Mothma urging a mass uprising on all Imperial worlds. The message bounced through pirate-relays and hidden transponders, and on Manda’yaim, Bo-Katan Kryze and her followers set their aim on the Viceroy’s fortress. On Yavin IV, the rebels packed up their base, quickly breaking down their camp and loading their ships. After that transmission, they all knew that Yavin would become a target for destruction.

Sabine stood on the bridge of the Ca’senaar, all her pilots prepping their starfighters. Some of the rebel fleet would make first for Alderaan, although they didn’t expect to find Stardust there when they arrived. They hopefully _would_ find some survivors. Other ships began scouting - a battlestation the size of a small moon shouldn’t be hard to find, although the fact that it had been constructed without the Rebellion knowing of it suggested otherwise.

* * *

The Twi’lek fighters were berthed on the Ca’senaar for travel, likely because of Sabine’s friendly relationship with Numa. As leader of her unit, due to her experience on Ryloth, Numa's steady, battle-tested grace was very much appreciated on their voyage. The eve of a decisive battle perhaps wasn’t the best time for Sabine to be growing close with someone, but reason wasn't much of a factor in her attraction to Numa. Sabine tried with mixed success not to show how quickly and deeply she admired the Twi'lek leader. 

The two of them shared many meals together, discussing strategy at first, before their conversations grew more casual; Numa talking about her childhood during the Separatist War, and the clone troopers she had admired and later befriended. Two 'troopers who had saved her life when she was very small had defected from the Empire early on, and came to Ryloth to live. They had taken her in when she was orphaned, and she was proud to call them her uncles. When Numa asked, Sabine was happy to talk at length about the Mando culture that had influenced the clones, as most of them had been trained by Mando mercenaries.

"So Numa, huh?" Sasha asked one day, settling at Sabine's side as she drank water and watched some of the others spar in the only space on the Ca'senaar big enough for such activity. Numa was currently flattening one of her subordinates.

"She's incredible," Sabine said after a moment. "Beautiful, but stars Sasha, for as much as that's one of the first things I noticed, it's so far down on the list of her attractive qualities now that I know her better? She hits like a fucking reek."

Sasha laughed softly. "So tell me about it," Sasha offered, and Sabine thought back to the conversation she'd had with him when he and Fenn began their courtship. They'd been serious from the start, and while Sabine intended to take her time, she already felt strongly about Numa.

"It's kind of funny," Sabine said. "Everything that attracts me to her - and don't take this the wrong way - but everything about her that makes me think it could work between us - they're qualities I already know and love in you." Sasha shrugged. 

"There were good reasons that people believed it when we told them we were courting," Sasha reminded. Sabine nodded. "So she's a family person?" he asked, and Sabine nodded again.

"She was orphaned not long after the war, but there were a pair of clone trooper's she'd met during the fighting on Ryloth, and they took her in, raised her. She's very proud of them, not that she discounts her birth family. But she gives both parts of her family their due. And fuck is she stubborn. Well. Stubborn isn't really the right word. Resolute. Pragmatic. Tactical in her decision making. She's a born leader, and trained up to use that to her advantage."

"She's a good partner for the future leader of Clan Wren," Sasha said with a note of approval. 

"It does sort of sound like I'm making the decision on those qualities when I list it out like that," Sabine said, and Sasha shrugged. 

"That's not a bad thing," Sasha said. "You're a bit of a pragmatic, tactically minded person yourself. Of course those qualities would be attractive to you." He shrugged again. "I certainly never expected all the facets of Fenn that I've come to love so well, but loving him - it was never a one and done proposition. It's something we're building every day, and we're constantly learning new things about one another."

"I just wish you weren't so loud about it at night," Sabine teased. Sasha chuckled. 

"What can I say, he likes it when I'm loud," Sasha teased back, and Sabine made a noise of complete disgust, but smiled nonetheless. She didn't know yet if Numa would become the partner she stood with for the rest of her life, but she hoped when she did find that person, she built something with them similar to what Sasha and Fenn had. Like Sasha had said, that type of relationship took work, and while the attraction to Numa was there, and she could see all the Twi'lek's excellent qualities, the work to make it into something permanent took the back burner in Sabine's mind while they were at war.

* * *

Shortly, Stardust’s trajectory out of the Alderaan system was detected. It was headed towards Chandrila, Mon Mothma’s homeworld. The entire fleet spun up their hyperdrives, and laid their course. They arrived to find Chandrila’s paltry planetary defenses buzzing around the man-made moon, and being swatted down like flies. The rebel starfighters joined the fight, targeting the battle station's surface defenses to clear out an approach path to the exhaust port that exposed the weakness that could overload the powercore deep inside the battle station. 

Stardust’s defenses were more than up to the task. The sheer bulk of the battle station meant that it housed squadron upon squadron of TIE fighters, and what they lacked in shielding and skill, they more than made up in numbers. The rebel pilots were kept busy targeting the TIEs, while the larger ships shielded and defended evacuating Chandrilan vessels. The Mando fighters were in the thick of it, Fangs strafing the Stardust and blasting TIEs out of the sky. 

Sasha spent the battle on General Dodanna’s flagship, helping coordinate the incoming intelligence for High Command. Sabine wasn’t best pleased to have her brother on a different ship during the fight, although she knew that as commander of the Mando delegation, her place was on the Ca’senaar. She and Sasha were in constant comm contact, and she did her part to analyze the data streaming through the terminals. Numa’s steady presence at her side helped.

The first run for the exhaust port Erso identified was a failure. The lead pilot managed to get their payload away, but their targeting was just slightly off. A second run was made, but the fighters were shot down before they could get their torpedoes lined up and away, and they were rapidly running out of fighters. A third, and likely final, group lined up for the trench run. They all knew they only had one shot left before the main weapon was fully powered. The attack group settled into place.

"Ka’ra," Sabine breathed in prayer, "alorir kaysh'e, dral woor'gaan'e, dral gaan'e, dral kar'ta'se." A second group formed up around the attack group, keeping the TIEs off them and laying down covering fire. "Wren One," Sabine commed.

"Wren One, copy," Fenn’s voice sounded through the comm. 

"Protect that attack group. This may be our last shot."

"Copy," Fenn said, and on the terminal, Sabine saw the wing of Fang fighters change course like a shoal of fish. Confident that her pilots would do all they could, Sabine focused back on the other parts of the battle. 

"Main weapon is powering up," someone called from the boards, and Sabine held her breath. It was a race now, the attack group versus that monster of a weapon, and all of Chandrila hung in the balance. 

"Torpedo away," the lead pilot reported, pulling up at the last possible moment. Their wingmen wheeled with them. For a moment, Sabine thought they’d failed. 

"Hit!" someone called, and similar exclamations came in on all channels. "Direct hit!" 

"Pull back," Admiral Ackbar commanded, "all ships, pull back!" The rebels obeyed with alacrity, yawing away from Stardust. A thin line of light pulsed out around the equator of the massive battlestation, and a moment later, it was obliterated in a ball of fire. Cheers broke out over the comms, and Sabine nearly sank to her knees in relief. Numa was there beside her, and they hugged fiercely in exultation.

"All ships, standby to render assistance for life pods, make sure that that wreckage doesn’t fall out of orbit. Rally point three, when the board is clear," Ackbar said, and Sabine grimaced, but passed the order to navigation. Rally point three was Hoth. Hopefully they wouldn’t be there long. Until then, they had wreckage to clear and prisoners to take - most Imperials captured would likely be low level technicians and stormtroopers, but there was a chance they’d get someone higher up, who would trade intel for more lenient treatment.

* * *

The Ca’senaar stayed with the rebel fleet through the rest of the civil war. The Wren clan pilots occasionally rotated back home, new fighters coming to take their place. When they did, they always brought rumours of unrest back home. Bo-Katan Kryze was fighting to unite the Mando’ade, fighting to push the Empire out of the sector. It was a long and drawn out battle, the Imperialist faction fighting for every centimetre of ground they ceded.

Even after the Saxons were deposed, first Gar and then his clansman Tiber, there was Moff Gideon to contend with, and he had no compunction about slaughtering Mando’ade wholesale if they got in his way. The Saxons had been bad enough, but at least they were Mando’ade, and that had restrained them somewhat; they were ruthless in their quest for power, but they also wanted there to be a Mandalore - and Mando'ade - left to rule over. 

Their Mand'alor Bo-Katan Kryze had been fighting against Death Watch since before she claimed that title. She and many of those loyal to her, like Sabine's mother Ursa, had been Nite Owls, a faction split from Death Watch during the Separatist Wars. They had fought Death Watch and the Sith Lord Maul, and resisted both Republic and Imperial intervention. Despite their long fight to keep Mando space free and independent, the Empire had managed to grasp hold of power. 

Early on, the Empire had used what had been their standard plan of attack in those days. They’d sent ISB agents with vastly overpowered weapons, and decimated the population. The most egregious slaughter had been when cadets at the Royal Academy in Sundari - the old Royal Academy, not the Imperial one - led by the scion of House Kryze, Korkie, had risen in rebellion. They had been slaughtered on the parade grounds of the academy, practically vaporized by E-Web heavy repeating blaster cannons, on the Night of a Thousand Tears. Eventually, Death Watch and the Empire had reached a compromise, leaving Gar Saxon as Viceroy of Mandalore.

Sabine couldn’t help but remember the look on Sasha’s face when he learned about that cursed night. She understood why all too well. The battle plan used to decimate the Mando’ade ran parallel to that used against the Lasat - the battle plan Sasha himself had followed during the siege of Lasan. ISB had been sent in with overpowered weapons to decimate a population the Empire feared for their martial ability. 

"If I ever find out who led that campaign," Sasha had promised, and Sabine had smiled grimly. She didn’t know the name of the agent in charge, but their days were numbered, as the days of the Empire were numbered. Mando'ad draar digu. Sabine had confidence in her Mand’alor, and there had already been discussion of calling the diaspora home to fight against the remaining Imperial presence in the sector. With the loss of population during the rise of the Empire and the clan wars a few decades before that, Manda’yaim and the other Mando worlds could easily absorb the influx.

But as much as she wanted to go home, help run the Empire out of the Mando sector, Sabine’s place was with the Rebellion for time-being. She had made a commitment, and while she missed her parents and Tristan and Krownest, she would fulfill her oath to the original Fulcrum, and see her work through to the end. It helped that Sabine did enjoy commanding the Ca’senaar, and there were other bright spots, too. 

Ketsu had remained with the Ghost for the duration, serving under Hera’syndulla, who had become a General, and so Sabine was able to mend her relationship with Ketsu slightly, although they’d never be as close as they once were. They’d grown up in different directions, and they'd never been able to regain the almost implicit trust they'd once had in each other. Sabine had made new friends too, Numa, Bodhi, Zeb, and Cassian chief among them.

* * *

Five years after they left Krownest, Sabine and her fighters returned. The Emperor had been destroyed by one of Kenobi’s Jedi students, and a New Republic was slowly forming out of the chaos. Mandalore hadn’t come through the transition unscathed. The entire sector was in crisis. Even after the death of the Emperor, Moff Gideon had continued terrorizing the Manda'yaim with the Imperial remnant under his control, and while Bo-Katan and her loyal commandos did their best, they had a serious disadvantage of numbers. 

Outlying Mandalorian worlds like Krownest weren’t as heavily impacted, but population centers on Manda’yaim, Concordia, and Kalevala had been decimated - more than decimated. Sabine checked in at Krownest, hugged her father, helped Ruusaan set back up in the family forge, and then brought the Ca’senaar to Kalevala, where her Mand’alor had entrenched her forces. Ursa stood at Bo-Katan’s shoulder, one of her most trusted advisors, and Tristan was among the cadre of Cabur’e that had formed around their Mand’alor. Both Ursa and Tristan, and Bo-Katan herself, welcomed Sabine and her fighters home.

Bo-Katan had clearly been through some vicious fighting, her once pristine armour scratched and dented from the battles she’d faced in her quest to unite Mandalore against Imperial occupation. The part of Sabine that had been diligently training as a goran the past few years itched to strip the armour off the Mand’alor and ensure the beskar’gam was still fully functional. 

"Mhi briikase gar yaim," the Mand’alor greeted, and Sabine dipped her head.

"Mhi briikase olar," Sabine returned, tapping her fingers against the kar’ta beskar in the center of her chestplate. "Vaii ven'linibar mhi?" 

The line of tension in the Mand’alor’s shoulders eased slightly. Sabine and her battle-tested pilots and warriors likely represented a significant body of fresh personnel for the Mand’alor. It wouldn’t hurt that their numbers had actually increased while they were away - more than one Mando’ade had met another warrior in the fight against the Empire, and exchanged vows, bringing their spouse home with them. There were also those like Bodhi, who chose to travel with them out of affection and gratitude, despite not having formal ties to Mandalore.

"Mhi liser comm Mon Mothma meh linibar gaa’taylir," Sabine said quietly when she met privately with the Mand’alor later on. It was an honour to be treated as a confidant by the Mand’alor, and Sabine intended not to let it go to her head. She hoped Bo-Katan would be glad of her honesty, even if she didn’t like what Sabine said. Bo-Katan, who had taken off her buy’ce and poured them each a glass of tihaar, grimaced. 

"Republic gaa’taylir," Bo-Katan scoffed, and tossed her tihaar back in a single swallow. "Republic gaa’taylir kyrayc ner ori’vod." Sabine held in a sigh, but nodded. She hadn’t thought the Mand’alor would accept outside help, but it was worth mentioning. "Gar ganar burc’yase ogir," Bo-Katan said more quietly, with a thread of understanding.

Sabine nodded, feeling her cheeks heat. Friends, yes. And maybe something more. Numa hadn’t come with them; she’d felt the need to return to Ryloth and her own people, but they’d spoken quiet hopes before parting. They’d grown close over the past few years, Numa a respected commander among the Twi’lek contingent, but not quite as stubborn as Cham, more willing to cooperate with other groups. 

It helped too that Numa has been partially raised by clone troopers. She understood Mando ways better than most outsiders, and even spoke a smattering of Mando’a. If Sabine hadn’t felt her duty to Mandalore as strongly as Numa had felt her own to Ryloth, Sabine thought she might still be at Numa’s side. 

"Lek," Sabine said, not elaborating, and Bo-Katan let out a husky chuckle, clearly understanding what went unsaid. 

"Eyn cyare?" Bo-Katan guessed, and Sabine nodded, feeling her blush strengthen. "Re’jorhaair ni," she urged, something wistful in her voice, and Sabine glanced over. Looking closely, Sabine could see how tired her Mand’alor was, how lonely. 

"Numa’shala," Sabine said, and pulled out her comm to project an image of the two of them, smiling for the holorecorder at the party after the Emperor had been defeated. "Teh Nabat, bat Ryloth. Ver’alor be Cham’syndulla." Bo-Katan whistled softly, understanding without Sabine needing to elaborate that Numa was both a fearless fighter and skilled strategist to be so highly ranked. 

"Mesh’la," Bo-Katan said appreciatively. "Morutar kaysh olar." 

"Kaysh aliit linibar kaysh," Sabine said, shaking her head. Bo-Katan dipped her head at that, understanding as any Mando would that family came first. 

"Ni copaanir gar briikase," Bo-Katan said, reaching out to rest her hand on Sabine’s pauldron. Sabine dipped her head. 

"Ni ganar ner aliit, Mand’alor," Sabine said. "Ni briikase." Bo-Katan sighed, but nodded. 

"Bal vencuyot?" Bo-Katan asked after a while. Sabine smiled slightly at that. 

"Naak," Sabine said. "Ner aliit, bal goran'la." Bo-Katan nodded at that, then gave her a measuring glance. 

"Ni linibar ruusaanyc goran," Bo-Katan offered. Sabine blinked, surprised at the offer. 

"Gar ijaat ni," Sabine said. "Elek Mand’alor." Bo-Katan smiled slightly at that, and before long dismissed Sabine to find her family. Tristan was waiting in the hall, helmet tucked under his arm. Sabine smiled at him, bumping vambraces in greeting. 

"Buir parer," Tristan said, and Sabine nodded. They walked in silence through the encampment. Tristan nodded in greeting to his comrades, and Sabine nodded to them too, proud to see the respect her brother was given by the other warriors. 

It wasn’t far to the Wren tent, and Sasha and Fenn were already inside with Ursa, food and drink and soft but sturdy cushions to sit on laid out around the central heater. Sabine greeted each of them in turn, and Ursa pushed her toward the food. Sabine didn’t resist, surprised at how pleased she was to be fussed over a little. She ate quickly and neatly, the food plain but nutritious: dense flatbreads, stewed lentils and meat with spices, yoghurt sauce with herbs mixed in. 

"Gideon ru’chakur haar Dha’kad," Ursa confided quietly when Sabine finished, and Sasha, Fenn, and Tristan had gathered with Sabine around the heater. 

Sabine whistled softly in dismay. 

"Bo-Katan -" Fenn started to ask, then shook his head. 

"Gebi’la r’ash’amur," Tristan said, voice grim. Sabine looked more closely at him. He was harder than she remembered - battle tested. Part of her mourned the quiet boy he had been, even as she rejoiced to see the strong warrior he had become. He had likely been part of that fight, Sabine saw in the stiffness in his posture. He felt responsible for not adequately protecting their Mand’alor and the symbol of her power. And now the Darksaber was in the hands of an outsider, as it had been when the Sith Lord Maul had killed Pre Vizsla. 

"Ni ven’ganar gra’tua par meg demagolka," Sasha said, voice low and cold. 

"Lek," Sabine agreed, and the others nodded. Fenn reached out, capturing Sasha’s hand in his own and holding on. Silence settled over them as they contemplated what they might like to do to Moff Gideon. He was well protected, and he’d decimated the Mando’ade. He would be hard to exact vengeance against. 

"Mhi ven’gra’tuar," Tristan agreed. 

"Cuun Mand’alor ru'tionir ni cuyir kaysh goran," Sabine said after a while, changing the subject completely. Ursa straightened, smiling proudly. 

"Jate’bora!" Sasha and Fenn said almost in unison, Tristan echoing them a moment later. Sabine flushed with pride, well aware of the honour she had been granted. 

The next few hours were spent catching up with one another, Ursa and Tristan talking about the fight for Mandalorian independence while Sabine, Sasha, and Fenn talked about the fight against the Empire on other worlds. They talked deep into the night, Sabine glaring good-naturedly when Sasha teased her about Numa, which necessitated telling her mother and younger brother about the Twi'lek she had grown close with. While no gifts had been exchanged, and no promises made, Sabine knew the others would understand that she was courting Numa. Ursa just smiled, and insisted on seeing an image of Numa. 

They all slept in their armour around the heater, fully aware that being in the encampment of the Mand’alor meant being a target. If Moff Gideon thought he would find them easy pickings, they would prove otherwise. Sabine slept on one side of Tristan, Ursa curled at his other side. Sasha and Fenn took the other side of the heater, Sasha curled protectively around Fenn’s slighter form. As she drifted towards sleep, Sabine could hear Fenn and Sasha talking quietly, although their voices were muffled enough she couldn’t quite understand their conversation. 

The next day, Sabine made sure that Ursa met Bodhi. Ursa glanced back at Sabine, head tilted slightly. Sabine knew that head-tilt. Her mother was judging her. 

"Ehn vod’e nu luubid?" Ursa asked mildly, and Fenn, who was making the introductions, laughed uproariously while Bodhi looked around in confusion. "Just teasing my daughter, Lieutenant," Ursa said more gently, then pulled off her helmet, knowing that for those not raised in the culture, speaking to a buy’ce could be unnerving. "If you would like, I can introduce you to Clan Rook, they are our friends and allies." 

"I - uh - I’m not Mandalorian," Bodhi said, and Ursa smiled wryly. 

"That can be changed, if you want," Ursa said. "Alexsandr is my son by choice, not by body and blood." 

Bodhi nodded - he’d known that already. Standing among the Wrens, it was easy to see that Sasha was of a different genetic stock, despite that with their helmets on, he fit in with them easily, clearly a member of the family. 

"I’ve got dibs on this one," Fenn half-teased, clasping Bodhi on the shoulder. Bodhi flushed at that, ducking his head with a smile. The older pilot had become a treasured mentor, and probably was old enough to be something like a father to Bodhi, if Bodhi was interested. 

"Oh?" Ursa said, glancing back at Sabine again. "Did you and Sabine settle that with cu’bikad or arm wrestling?" 

"Target shooting," Fenn said in complete sincerity. "She may have found him, but he’s one of mine now." Ursa dipped her head to hide a smile, seeing that for all their teasing, Fenn was quite serious. He was more than ready to make Bodhi a member of his clan if Bodhi wanted that. 

"You’re a good man, Fenn Rau," Ursa said fondly, because that loyalty and protectiveness had long been the strength of the Mando’ade. She patted his oversized pauldron before turning back to Bodhi. "Ruusaan hasn’t kitted him up yet?" She asked, looking critically over the plain, unarmoured flightsuit Bodhi wore. Fenn smiled at the surprise in Ursa’s tone. 

"She’s tried," Fenn said. "Bod’ika has our stubbornness." Ursa laughed at that, and that night and the rest of the time they were in the Kalevala encampment, Bodhi slept in the Wren tent, rather than the pilots barracks. He also finally gave in to being fitted for pilot’s armour in the Mando style - big heavy shoulder pauldrons over a half-cuirass, a helmet, and multi-function gauntlets over a flame-proof flightsuit of armourweave, all designed to optimally protect them in the transparisteel canopied Fang starfighters, without overburdening them. 

* * *

The Mand’alor and her supporters didn’t stay on Kalevala long. Bo-Katan was well aware that mobility worked in her favour. Staying on the move both allowed the Mand’alor to visit her supporters and recruit new fighters, and also kept Moff Gideon and his fighters from taking them by surprise. The Clan Wren fighters who had been out of system quickly integrated into Bo-Katan’s forces, command of the Ca’senaar falling to Fenn, along with leading the starfighter wing now that Sabine had joined the circle around the Mand’alor. 

As they travelled, Sabine and the others who had been away heard the stories of the battles fought for Mandalore. Gar Saxon had been killed around the time Sabine brought the Darksaber to Mandalore and convinced Bo-Katan it - and Mandalore - could be hers. Gar Saxon’s clansman, Tiber had been named his successor. Tiber’s reign as Viceroy hadn’t lasted long - he’d been killed within a year. After that, the Empire had decided that native Viceroys weren’t working, and Marshal Gideon, who had risen through the ranks of ISB, had become Moff of the Mandalorian Sector. 

Sasha had been very interested to learn the Moff was former ISB. He’d started digging, and soon had confirmation of the rumours that whispered through the ranks. Gideon had been the ISB Agent behind the Night of a Thousand Tears. He was the one who slaughtered a generation of Mando cadets on a parade ground in the name of the Empire. When he had confirmation, Sabine could see the rage kindle in Sasha. If he found Gideon, the Moff’s life would be forfeit. 

"You know the Mand’alor has first shot at killing the bastard, right?" Sabine asked, just to be sure, and Sasha glared at her. She shook her head bemusedly, and Sasha narrowed his eyes. 

"I know," Sasha said, clearly put out that he couldn’t just hunt down and slaughter Gideon on sheer principle. Sabine smiled slightly. Every time Sasha exhibited traits prized among Mando’ade - like his sheer bloody-mindedness - Sabine felt a swell of gratification that she’d claimed herself such an excellent brother. _Mando'ad draar digu_ , Sabine thought. 

The dossier Sasha assembled on Gideon was soon being circulated among Bo-Katan’s advisors. It was a testament to Sasha’s skill at intelligence work, especially as he technically didn’t have access to much of the data he’d compiled and analyzed. He’d been able to find what he needed despite not having official access, and that seemed to be all the recommendation needed for the intelligence wing of the Mand’alor’s faction. Sasha was soon working alongside the other intel and security specialists, Sabine sometimes assisting, but more often seeing to the arms and armour of the fighters as she honed her craft as a goran. While she was good at the intel work, she enjoyed the creative, generative process of smithing more. 

It took a few years, but eventually the majority of Mando’ade claimed Bo-Katan Kryze as their Mand’alor. With the support of her people, they were able to finally drive Gideon and his Imperial Remnant off Mandalore and out of the sector. Sasha would very much have liked to continue hunting the bastard down, but a few weeks after the last sighting of Gideon in Mando space, news came via diplomatic channels that he had been captured in New Republic space, and tried, convicted, and executed for war crimes. A grim sort of satisfaction settled over Manda’yaim at the news - they’d wanted to kill the bastard themselves, and retrieve the Darksaber from his possession, but most were just happy he was dead. 

With that news, Bo-Katan declared she would take up residence in the old fortress in the heart of Keldabe, the traditional stronghold of the Mand’alor. Neither of the Saxons had made use of the building, nor had Gideon - it hadn't been inhabited since before the clan wars. The traditionalists were appeased by the distancing from her sister’s pacifist governmental capital in Sundari, and by the official refusal of membership in the New Republic. Mandalore would stand alone. 

Ursa returned to Krownest and her husband, but the rest of the Wrens, along with Fenn and Bodhi, remained in Keldabe in service to the Mand’alor. Sabine set up her area of the forge in the old fortress at the heart of the city where Bo-Katan made her headquarters, while Sasha, Fenn, Tristan and Bodhi served as Protectors. 

On the heels of the news of Gideon’s execution, Zeb came to visit Sabine and Sasha in Keldabe. He had gone to the near-mythical Lasat homeworld of Lira San after the Rebellion against the Empire was over, but hadn't stayed. After settling there for a little while, Zeb had found himself bored and ill at ease without a cause to fight for. While not interested in becoming Mando, Zeb had come to respect Sasha deeply over the years, and that feeling was mutual. He visited for a while, then continued on to visit with the other members of the Ghost crew, with the promise that he’d find his way back to Mando space to visit the Wrens again. 

Sasha had been glad of his friend’s company - while he had settled in well on Manda’yaim, and found a place among the intelligence apparatus, it was nice to have visitors who knew other aspects of him. Cassian also came to visit, although he stayed a little longer. He was debating his path forward, and had sought out the other Fulcrum agents for their opinions. The Republic had offered him a position in their security bureau, and while he was good at the work, he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue in that demanding career. Cassian stayed nearly a month, and even when he returned to the new Republic capital on Chandrila, he hadn’t come to a decision on his path forward. He would always have a place with them, Sabine and Sasha promised. 

Their third visitor in fairly rapid succession was Numa. Ryloth was doing well, she reported, and had signed onto the New Republic. Cham’syndulla had won the planetary leadership by a landslide, and while Numa was pleased for her mentor, she was also feeling a bit superfluous. While there was still a standing militia on Ryloth, they weren’t strong enough to take on the sort of missions that Numa really wanted to run - hunting down and eliminating slavers, pirates, and traffickers in sentient life. She was thinking about joining Republic Judicial, with the understanding that that department would undertake those missions once they got up and running. 

Numa stayed for about a month, a week of which she and Sabine spent on Krownest. Sabine found herself guiding Numa around her favourite places in the family compound, in echo of the long ago visit that had solidified her fraternal relationship with Sasha. This time, the flirting was both sincere and intentional. 

When Numa left at the end of the month, they hadn’t exchanged gifts to formalize their relationship, but Sabine _had_ carefully explained the courtship process to Numa, and some other Mando cultural nuances. Numa had nodded, clearly interested, but had asked for a little time. She wanted to figure out what she wanted to do with her life, and wasn’t quite ready to make a promise to Sabine. 

One thing that did change after Numa’s visit was that Sabine managed to spend even more time on the comm with her. They’d already exchanged frequent messages and had regular holocomm dates. After Numa’s visit, their conversations became a daily - or more than daily - occurrence. Sasha, Fenn, and Tristan teased Sabine mercilessly, and even Bodhi gently poked fun a few times when Sabine was late to a meal because a comm conversation ran long or she got caught up reading a message from Numa. 

Before Sabine could get quite annoyed enough to contemplate murdering her beloved siblings, because Bodhi and Fenn filled that role too, even if Bodhi was still waffling about officially being adopted and Fenn was a sibling-by-marriage rather than wholly by choice, Bo-Katan called Sabine for a quiet conference. Sasha, Fenn, and Bodhi were already there when Sabine arrived, and Tristan followed her in shortly. 

"Mand’alor?" Sabine asked, and Bo-Katan gave a grim little smile, then nodded to Sasha. 

"Ner adate bat Tatooine sirbur Boba Fett cuyanir ori'palon be Carkoon," Sasha said. Sabine let out a low whistle. She’d been a little sad to hear of the bounty hunter’s demise towards the end of the war, although she had no sympathy for Jabba the Hutt. But Fett had been an impressive bounty hunter, and she knew that Fenn had thought highly of Boba’s father, Jango Fett, who had once been acclaimed Mand'alor in his own right. 

"Gar copaanir mhi slanar hiibir kaysh?" Sabine guessed, and Bo-Katan nodded. 

"Ulyc," Bo-Katan warned. Sabine nodded. 

"Shi mhi Wren’e?" Sabine asked, and Bo-Katan nodded. 

"Gar rayshe’a," Bo-Katan said. "Shev’la bal iviin’yc." 

"Tion’tuur mhi ven'slanar?" Sabine asked, already beginning to plan, and Bo-Katan smiled, relaxing slightly. 

Over the next few days, the Wrens quietly prepared for their trip. Sasha gathered every whisper about Fett’s supposed death and subsequent re-appearance, Fenn and Bodhi ensured the kom’rk was ready to travel, and Tristan and Sabine took care of squaring everything else away. Three days after Bo-Katan had given them the assignment, they took off, a course laid in for Tatooine. 

It wasn’t too long of a trip to the Arkanis sector, a few days in hyperspace. They traded off shifts in the cockpit, all of them able pilots. When they arrived, they set the ship down in Mos Eisley, as rumour said that’s where Fett was. Bodhi stayed with the ship, the other four stalking off, armour gleaming under the twin suns. 

Once they were on the ground, it wasn’t hard to find Fett. No one wanted to mess with a fully armoured Mando, and most of the locals seemed to assume Fett would be glad to see them. They didn't correct that assumption. Before entering the cantina where they would find Fett, they agreed that it would be best for Fenn to do the talking. He hadn’t been close with Boba, but he’d known and been trusted by Jango, and so hopefully Boba would at least be willing to hear him out. 

"Cabur Rau," Fett greeted when they walked up to his booth, and gestured for them to sit. His helmet rested on the table, and he sat leaning back into shadow, so his face was still mostly obscured. 

"Boba," Fenn said, a little surprised to be recognized after so long. "Bo-Katan copaani haa’taylir gar." 

"Bo-Katan nayc ni Mand’alor," Fett said. "Kaysh ori’vod ru'sirbur dar’manda." 

"Bo-Katan nu sirbur gar dar’manda," Fenn returned evenly, as if they weren’t discussing one of the worst possible insults Satine could have paid the Fetts, declaring them not Mando. Boba said nothing for a long moment, sipping at his drink. "Me’copaani ad'ika?" Fenn asked gently. "Ni copaani gaa’taylir." 

"Ni copaani -" Fett started, then paused, shaking his head. "Ni copaani yaim ti ni aliit." 

"Nu dinuir gar aliit," Fenn said, helmet vocoder not disguising the sorrow in his voice. Boba nodded, looking away, then sighed. "Olaror jorhaa’ir ti cuun Mand’alor." 

"Ni haryc," Boba said finally. 

"Olaror yaim," Fenn urged, and Boba hesitated, then nodded. 

With Fett’s agreement secured, they set out back to the ship. On the way, two Twi’lek women melted out from the shadows. Boba paused almost imperceptibly, but the others were all highly trained and battle-tested warriors. They noticed the hesitation. 

"Friends?" Sasha signed in gaanjorhaa, the Mando sign language. 

"Friends," Boba signed back, then waved the two women over. "Ibic Oola bal Lyn, be Jabba redalur," he said aloud. 

Sabine pulled off her helm at that, looking at the two appraisingly. They looked back warily. Both looked too thin, and their clothing was a shabby layering of roughspun. 

"We can take you with us, I have friends on Ryloth if you want to go there, or if Fett will vouch for you, we can take you to Mandalore," Sabine said. It wasn’t much, but it was really all she could promise. 

"I won’t return to Ryloth," the green-skinned Twi’lek said firmly, dark eyes hard. "My own father sold me." Sabine clenched her jaw, nodding in agreement. 

"I go where Boba goes," the blue-skinned Twi’lek said, "if that is Mandalore, so be it. We can find work there as easily as anywhere." Sabine nodded again, glad they’d taken her kom’rk, which could comfortably transport twenty commandos in full armour, with enough supplies for a short campaign. 

The trip back to Mando space was thankfully uneventful, and they escorted Boba and his two friends directly to the fortress of the Mand’alor. There, Fett was whisked into a closed door meeting with Bo-Katan. Their conversation was entirely private, but the agreement they came to was soon widely known. 

Boba had no wish to claim the title or duties of Mand’alor. Mostly, he wanted to be left alone to recover after his run-in with the sarlacc. Concord Dawn extended the offer of title to the dilapidated Fett homestead there, likely at Bo-Katan’s encouragement. Fett accepted, and Oola and Lyn went with him. The two Twi'lek soon opened up a tapcafe in the closest town, where they switched off nights between bartending and dancing, and Boba tended to lurk in the corner, silently threatening violence against anyone who got presumptuous about where they thought Oola and Lyn ought to sleep at night. 

Not long after Sabine’s return, she had word from Numa again. Sabine had known from their correspondence that Numa had finally made a decision, at least so far as her career went. She’d signed onto the New Republic’s diplomatic service, and already been sent on a few missions. She got in touch to say she was being sent to Mandalore as part of a delegation for trade talks, and Sabine couldn’t help her thrill of pleasure. 

While Sabine was a little worried that with Numa now working for the New Republic, it would be more difficult to begin a proper courtship, she was hopeful that at least now that Numa felt decided in her career, they could discuss their relationship, and where it might lead, a bit more. There was no question they respected one another, and were attracted to one another. It was whether they could build a life together that remained in question. 

Thanks to Bo-Katan’s meddling, Sabine was in the fortress’ throne room when the Republic delegation arrived. She was glad of her helmet as they walked in - Numa looked stunning in her diplomatic services uniform. Navy blue trousers and short jacket, with a matching wrap to cover her lekku and hearing cones. Aurodium coloured buttons and trim denoted that Numa had kept her rank of Lieutenant, and she still wore her ‘lucky’ 212th Attack Battalion armour on her left arm. 

The surprise was that among the Republic delegation stood the old Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. One of his student Jedi was with him - the Tatooine farmboy Luke Skywalker who had taken the critical shot at Chandrila, risen to the rank of Commander in the Rebel fleet, and killed Vader and the Emperor. A powerful guard, despite that he wore a New Republic Fleet uniform rather than Jedi robes. Only the lightsaber he openly wore on his hip marked him as a Jedi. 

"Su’cuy ruug’la burc’ya," Bo-Katan called. 

"Su cuy’gar, Mand’alor," Kenobi called back, and tapped the center of his chest in salute, just where his kar'ta beskar would sit if he wore the traditional armour. His accent was good, Sabine noted. Kalevalan. 

"K’olar," Bo-Katan ordered, waving her hand to summon Kenobi over. Kenobi gently reassured Skywalker, then went up to where Bo-Katan sat her throne. The Mand’alor pulled off her helmet and gloves, reaching out to touch Kenobi’s white-bearded cheek with her bare hand, then pulled his head down to press their foreheads and noses together in a gentle kiss. She spoke, too quietly for Sabine to hear, and Kenobi answered at the same volume. 

Kenobi straightened up after a few moments, a gentle smile hidden in his white beard. He glanced over, pale eyes fixing on Sabine. She felt as though she’d touched an open circuit. 

"Goran," Kenobi greeted respectfully. Bo-Katan gave a nod. 

"Jetii," Sabine returned. 

"Goran, hiibir ni vod at beskar’gam tayat," Bo-Katan directed, and gestured for Kenobi to follow Sabine. He turned back to Bo-Katan, and bowed slightly, again tapping the center of his chest. Bo-Katan waved him off, and he followed Sabine down into the vaults beneath the fortress. 

"Me’copaani?" Sabine asked informally, echoing the way her Mand’alor had addressed the Jedi. Kenobi smiled. 

"Bo-Katan ru'sirbur kaysh ru'taylir ni beskar’gam," Kenobi said. "Ni ru'parjir beskar’gam be kyr’tsad." 

Sabine felt her eyebrows rise in surprise. She nodded. Returning Kenobi’s armour was unexpected, but a mark of supreme respect from the Mand’alor, as was her public declaration that Kenobi was her brother. Sabine had heard stories of the Separatist War, and how wrong it had gone. Their people had been decimated when Death Watch rose against the Duchess, by both Maul and his Shadow Collective, and by the Empire after. While the Night of a Thousand Tears had been one of the worst atrocities committed, it was not the only one. 

"Gar ganar gai?" Sabine asked, and Kenobi laughed quietly. 

"Lek," Kenobi said, something sad in his tone, despite his laughter. "Satine ru'dinui gai bal manda." Sabine nodded, understanding that the memory was likely bittersweet. 

"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la," Sabine said respectfully. Kenobi nodded, and they remained quiet the rest of the way to the armour vault. It took a little looking for Sabine to find the armour - it was deep in the vault, in a crate marked only with the jai’galaar sigil of kyr’tsad. It was in poor shape, but the scanner read it as true beskar. "Ni liser borarir ti ibic." 

"Vor entye," Kenobi said, and dipped his head respectfully. Sabine nodded, then hesitated. He cocked an eyebrow in question, and she smiled slightly. 

"Kanan Jarrus bal Ezra Bridger," Sabine started, and Kenobi smiled fondly. 

"Kanan Jarrus ba’jurir ti Hera Syndulla," Kenobi said. "Ezra Bridger cabuor Lothal." 

Sabine nodded. She had respected the two Jedi on the Ghost, and while it would be exaggerating to call them friends, she was glad to know they were well. She had known already that Zeb was doing well - he corresponded with her and Sasha, although not very frequently. Zeb spent much of his time on Lira San, and the nebula that hid the Lasat homeworld also interfered with comm signals, so Zeb could only send greetings and respond to messages when he was off-world. He travelled among his friends, and had stopped on Mandalore before, staying with them in Keldabe for a stretch. 

"Numa speaks highly of you," Kenobi said as they walked back up toward the throne room, and Sabine glanced over, a little surprised. Kenobi smiled, and he reminded her of nothing so much as a meddling grandfather. "She fusses over me - did you know I met her during the last war? She helped us free her village." Sabine smiled at that, doing mental math. Numa was only a few years older than her, she couldn’t have been more than five or so Standard when Ryloth was a battleground between the Republic and Separatists. Numa has spoken of it, but not mentioned the Jedi, only the ‘troopers. 

"I would like to hear that tale," Sabine said, and Kenobi happily related it as they walked. He was a good storyteller, and it was clear he loved and respected the men he had served with. It fit with what she had heard from Rex, and she was glad that the clones had served under someone who had cared for them. 

Sabine delivered Kenobi back to the throne room, where the formal introductions were still dragging on, the numerous members of the Republic delegation listing their lengthy credentials. Kenobi slipped back in among them without comment, patting Numa’s arm gently as he passed her, then Skywalker’s. After a little while longer, the party was shown to rooms down in the city, where they would be staying. 

That night, there was a formal meal with the Republic delegation at the Oyu’baat hotel, where they were roomed. The Mando’ade left their helmets in cubbies or on shelves, but wore their armour. Everyone was on their best behavior, conversing politely on innocuous topics. Sabine found herself seated at Numa’s side, and was certain that Bo-Katan was responsible for the time they were being granted together. Another mark of how good a person her Mand’alor was, and how good a friend. 

Negotiations themselves went quickly and easily, and Kenobi was evidently along as a translator and Mando cultural specialist, rather than as a Jedi, though his status as both a Jedi and the lover of the late Duchess were well known if not much discussed. Numa was clearly fond of the old man, and would happily sit and reminisce with him at length about Ryloth while Sabine listened. From their conversations, Sabine was surprised but pleased to learn that quite a few former GAR ‘troopers who had served in Kenobi’s command, had settled on Ryloth after being freed from the Empire, not just Numa's uncles. 

When the rest of the Republic delegation left, Kenobi and Numa stayed behind, Kenobi as Bo-Katan’s guest, and Numa with Sabine and the Wrens. Rather to Sabine’s surprise, Numa confessed she was having serious second thoughts about the job she’d been so excited to embark upon. While the assignments were all she had hoped for, she was passed over for many of those that involved combat, despite her status as a veteran of the Rebellion. It seemed that some of the human-centric mindset was still pervasive even in the New Republic, and twisted up with it was a sort of patriarchal attitude that clearly infuriated Numa. Sabine didn't doubt there were prejudices specifically against female Twi'lek in the mix too. 

Given that sort of work situation, Sabine wasn’t too surprised Numa decided to use some of her leave time and stay in Keldabe for a while. Mando culture had grown increasingly human-centric in the past decades, Sabine knew, but there were still plenty of non-human Mando’ade. Given that Numa’s ‘casual’ clothes included armour, she wouldn’t be disrespected on Manda’yaim. 

With Numa staying on for a while, Sabine spent less time in the forge, although she didn’t neglect her duties. They ate most nights in the fortress, as it had become home for the young Wrens, and they lived in shared quarters there. Numa knew them all already, save Tristan, and got along well with Sabine’s siblings. Sabine also took her out and showed her the city, and even out to Concord Dawn, to the tapcafe where Oola and Lyn did a good business, and were highly respected in their community despite not being traditional warriors. 

Eventually, Numa did have to return to the Republic, but she was clearly reluctant to leave, and when she did go, she had a new beskar headband - not quite armour, but a gift with a great deal of intention behind it. Most members of the New Republic wouldn’t understand what it meant, but Kenobi had smiled and congratulated both Numa and Sabine on their engagement when he saw. It wasn’t too surprising when Numa came back to Keldabe a few months after she left, a single bag holding all her belongings in hand, beskar headband glinting on her brow. 

They wed on Krownest a couple months after that, and Sabine forged Numa a suit of beskar’gam as her wedding gift, while Numa had to content herself with giving Sabine some high grade explosives, and adding her to her family _kalikori_. Her uncles Boil and Waxer, clone troopers who had served on Ryloth and later retired there, had come for the ceremony, and Ursa invited them to stay on with her and Alrich at the Wren compound after, as they were Numa’s only surviving family. It wouldn’t do, after all, to separate Numa from her clan. They accepted, much to Numa’s delight. 

Numa took some time off to work on her Mando’a and learn more about Mando culture, teaching Sabine in turn about Twi’lek culture. Sabine, always interested in the arts, was especially eager to learn about some of the styles and aesthetics popular on Ryloth. Numa was less artistically inclined herself, but did her best to satisfy Sabine’s curiosity, even if that was just pointing her at academic writings and helping translate them from Ryl. 

After a few months - when she felt comfortably conversant in Mando’a - Numa signed on to the Cabur corps that the other Wrens served in. She opted, in contrast to Tristan who served as a Keldabe based policing capacity, or Sasha, who was in intelligence, or Fenn and Bodhi in the piloting corps, to serve in the arm of the Cabur’e that policed throughout the system and even further from home. Their main quarry was slavers and other traffickers - smugglers who dealt in flesh and spice and illicit arms. It was just the sort of thing she had long hoped to do. 

On one of her first trips out, Numa’s squad captured a slaver’s ship. There were quite a few children aboard, bound for the market in Hutt space. All the freed slaves were given the option to settle in Mando space, and the situation of the children sparked quite a few conversations among the Wrens about the prospect of taking on foundlings. Fenn and Sasha were not quite at the stage of actively looking for a child to adopt, but they planned to do so within the next few years. Sabine didn’t feel quite ready for that responsibility herself, but she and Numa agreed that it was definitely something they would like to do. Signing up to foster children like those freed on the mission would be a start. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a:**  
>  Alorir kaysh'e, dral woor'gaan'e, dral gaan'e, dral kar'ta'se = lead them, strong wings, strong hands, strong hearts (invented words: kaysh = them singular, so I just made it plural. There's no word for "wings" so I smashed woor = wind, and gaan'e = hands together for that)  
> Ba’jurir ti = raises children with  
> Bal vencuyot = and the future  
> Buir parer = parent is waiting  
> Cabuor = protects  
> Cabur('e) = Protector(s)  
> Copaani haa’taylir gar = wants to see you  
> Cuun Mand’alor ru'tionir ni cuyir kaysh goran = our leader asked me to be her blacksmith  
> Ehn vod’e nu luubid = Three siblings not enough  
> Eyn cyare = a sweetheart/lover  
> Gaa’taylir kyrayc ner ori’vod = help killed my older sibling  
> Gar copaanir mhi slanar hiibir kaysh = you want us to go get him  
> Gar ganar burc’yase ogir = you have friends there  
> Gar ganar gai = you have (a) name  
> Gar rayshe’a = you five  
> Gebi’la r’ash’amur = nearly died  
> Goran = blacksmith, metalworker. Used in this fic to also mean armourer  
> Goran, hiibir ni vod at beskar’gam tayat = armourer, take my brother to armour storage  
> Ibic Oola bal Lyn, be Jabba redalur = This (is) Oola and Lyn, Jabba's dancers (redular is the verb "to dance" but I'm using it as a best attempt)  
> Jai’galaar = shriek-hawk  
> Jate'bora = good job  
> Jetii = Jedi  
> Ka'ra = stars - ancient Mandalorian myth - ruling council of fallen kings  
> Ka'rta beskar = iron heart, the little lozange at the center of mando chest armour  
> Kaysh aliit linibar kaysh = her family/clan needs her  
> Kaysh ori’vod ru'sirbur dar’manda = her older sister said (I'm) not Mando  
> K'olar = Come here  
> Kyr’tsad = Death Watch (lit. Death Society) - breakaway Mandalorian sect  
> Lek = yeah  
> Mando'ad draar digu = A Mandalorian never forgets.  
> Me’copaani ad'ika = what do you want little one  
> Mesh'la = beautiful  
> Mhi briikase gar yaim = We (are) happy you (are) home  
> Mhi briikase olar = we (are) happy (to be) here  
> Mhi liser comm Mon Mothma meh linibar gaa’taylir = we can comm Mon Mothma if (we) need help  
> Mhi ven’gra’tuar = we will be avenged  
> Morutar kaysh olar = welcome her here  
> Naak = peace  
> Nayc ni = (is) not my  
> Ner adate bat Tatooine sirbur Boba Fett cuyanir ori'palon be Carkoon = my people on Tatooine say Boba Fett survived (the) great pit of Carkoon  
> Ner aliit, bal goran'la = my family, and blacksmithing (I think 'la = -ing, more or less, but that's the intention here)  
> Ni briikase = I (am) happy  
> Ni copaani gaa’taylir = I want to help  
> Ni copaani yaim ti ni aliit = I want home with my family  
> Ni copaanir gar briikase = I want you happy  
> Ni ganar ner aliit = I have my family  
> Ni haryc = I (am) tired  
> Ni liser borarir ti ibic = I can work with this  
> Ni ru'parjir beskar’gam be kyr’tsad = I won Death Watch armour  
> Ni ven’ganar gra’tua par meg demagolka = I will have vengeance for that war criminal  
> Nu dinuir gar aliit = (I can) not give you family  
> Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la = not gone, but marching far away (tribute to a dead comrade)  
> Nu sirbur gar dar’manda = didn't say you (are) not Mando  
> Olaror jorhaa’ir ti cuun Mand’alor = come talk with our Leader  
> Olaror yaim = come home  
> Re’jorhaair ni = tell me  
> Ru’chakur haar Dha’kad = Stole the Darksaber  
> Ru'dinui gai bal manda = gave (me) name and soul (ie. adopted me as a Mando)  
> Ru'sirbur kaysh ru'taylir ni beskar’gam = said she preserved my armour  
> Shev’la bal iviin’yc = silent and fast  
> Shi mhi Wren’e = only us Wrens  
> Su cuy'gar = hello (lit. you're still alive)  
> Su’cuy ruug’la burc’ya = hello old friend  
> Teh Nabat, bat Ryloth. Ver’alor be Cham’syndulla = from Nabat, on Ryloth. Lieutenant to Cham'syndulla  
> Tion’tuur mhi ven'slanar = what day will we leave  
> Ulyc = carefully  
> Vaii ven'linibar mhi = where will (you) need us  
> Vor entye = Thank you (lit. I accept a debt)


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next few years, Bo-Katan tapped Sabine and her clan as her operatives for various secretive missions. Given that Sabine was nominally one of Bo-Katan’s goran’e, she could quietly leave Keldabe for a while without too many people commenting on her absence. Numa, as one of the wider ranging Cabur’e, was constantly coming and going, and so no one remarked too much on her absences either. And if other members of the clan came along - well. They were clan. Of course they tended to travel together. It was a very convenient arrangement for all.

Sabine wasn’t sure if Bo-Katan had intended for Sabine to be a covert operative when she first offered her the position of goran, but Sabine was pleased enough with the result. She got both the creative outlet of forging armour, and the thumping adrenaline rush of carrying out missions for her Mand’alor. It helped that all the intel she acted on was thoroughly vetted by Sasha, and he was often with her as a mission partner, with Fenn along as their transport and air support. Sometimes Bodhi, Numa, and Tristan came along as well, although just as frequently, Bodhi and Tristan remained behind in Keldabe with the other Cabur’e based there. 

When, some years after the fall of the Empire, rumour came about a group of Mando’ade - one with kyr’tsad markings on their beskar’gam - destroying the bounty hunters guild on Nevarro, Sabine and her clan were the ones tapped to investigate. The tip, Sasha told Sabine, came from Ketsu, who had returned to bounty hunting after the fall of the Empire, but also collected pay as an information gatherer for the Mand'alor. 

Their mission was to first, investigate the rumour of kyr'tsad activity and see if it was true, and second, to make sure that kyr’tsad wasn’t lingering on the fringes and plotting to overthrow Bo-Katan. They were also authorized to invite Mando’ade back to the home sector, so long as they forswore kyr'tsad and that set of beliefs. Since mandokar was a creed and culture, rather than a genetic quality, there were innumerable members of the Mando diaspora who had never stepped foot on Manda’yaim. Given the depopulation of Mando space under the Empire’s rule, Bo-Katan was happy to welcome members of the diaspora home, so long as they were willing to follow her rules as Mand’alor. 

When they arrived on Nevarro, Sabine almost immediately clocked the bright orange and maroon paint job on one of the other ships on the landing field, and smiled wryly. Ketsu had stuck around. That couldn’t possibly be good.

"Sabine," Ketsu greeted, coming down her ramp to meet them on the landing field, then nodding at the others. She knew Sabine’s older brother and Fenn Rau by their armour, but not the partially armoured Twi’lek who stood comfortably inside Sabine’s personal bubble. Ketsu looked over her appraisingly, noting that much of the armour she did wear were parts of beskar’gam. Without the traditional t-slit buy’ce, few would recognize her as Mando. It was the same gambit Ketsu used herself - using a different style helmet meant people didn't recognize her as Mando. It meant they underestimated her. 

The Twi'lek wore a tan hodasalar secured with a beskar headband covered with delicate scrollwork in the Wren Clan patterns. Black-wrapped teal lekku extended from beneath the hodasalar down her back. The hodasalar itself was draped over her shoulders, partially obscuring her traditionally Mando-style chestplate. One of her pauldrons and the armour down her bicep and forearm on the same side was old GAR trooper armour, battered white plastoid with a wide stripe of deep yellow. The same shade of yellow dominated the chestplate, along with a bright pink that matched her eyes and teal to match her skin, used in the scrollwork that Ketsu recognized as Sabine’s handiwork. The colours weren’t traditional for Clan Wren, but to Mando eyes, it was clearly Clan Wren armour all the same.

"Ketsu," Sabine returned, drawing the bounty hunter’s attention. "You said it was urgent?"

"Lek," Ketsu said, her use of Mando’a underlining the seriousness of the situation. She’d worked hard, her first few years after leaving the academy, to leave everything of Mandalore behind, even her accent. Now, she spoke Basic like it was her mother tongue. 

"The guild here was knocked over by a band of Mando’ade, at least one with a jai’galaar on their armour. They disappeared after, and a few months later, the Guild was toppled again by an Imperial remnant," Ketsu said grimly. The others nodded. Some of that had been in the intel that Sasha briefed them with, but not the part about an Imperial remnant. Ketsu took an audible breath. 

"They say the Imperial remnant was led by Moff Gideon, and among the few who fought him was a Mando in unmarked beskar’gam - the only one of the first group to be seen again. At first, the locals thought Gideon was killed in a TIE crash out on the lava plains, but now they’re not so sure. The Jawas salvaging the TIE were slaughtered, and someone cut through the hull. I haven’t seen a lightsaber in action, but from the sounds of it, that’s what was used. The guildmaster is spooked, although he doesn’t show it much. He’s taken on a bodyguard, former rebel ‘dropper who ran with the Mando.

"I don’t think they’ve clocked me as Mando," Ketsu continued, gesturing at her helmet, which wasn’t of the traditional t-slit style most associated with Mando’ade, "but there’s Mando presence too. Well hidden, I can’t figure out where, but I’m certain they’re still here. The guildmaster and his assistant, I’m pretty sure they know, and I know that the Mand’alor is looking for any warrior willing to fight for her cause. I’m pretty sure any survivors of Gideon’s attack would be happy to suit up. He used an E-web against them."

"That’s a pretty different situation than suspected Death Watch activity," Sabine said. She had noted how Sasha and Fenn tensed at knowledge that Gideon was still using an E-web. 

"I know, but I knew you would be inbound by the time I had the info. There wasn’t much else I could do but wait."

Sabine nodded, accepting that. 

"I can try and talk to the guildmaster’s ver'gebuir," Numa volunteered, tapping her beskar-clad bicep where her armour boasted the block-chain pattern that was tattooed on the arm beneath. Shocktroopers in many groups fighting to restore the Republic used that symbol, a badge of honour for the ‘droppers who were often the first fighters on the ground. It went unspoken that in her partial armour, and given prejudices against female Twi’leks, she’d likely be underestimated, even if she was showing up with a bunch of Mando’ade. 

Ketsu nodded. "I’ll introduce the rest of you to Greef," she said. She paused. "The guildmaster." 

Sabine nodded, and they followed Ketsu to a quiet cantina. A droid worked the taps, and in a sheltered booth with clear sight lines to the entrances sat two humans, a dark skinned man with a neat moustache and rich clothing, and an armoured woman with dark hair half-braided back against her skull and a shocktrooper’s tattoo on her bicep. 

"I hope you haven’t brought me trouble Onyo," the man called across the room. Ketsu shrugged one of her shoulders minutely.

"Pretty sure I’ve brought you a solution," Ketsu said. "Greef, this is Sabine Wren and her clan. They’re problem solvers for the Mand’alor." 

"And we heard you have a problem we thought we’d already solved," Sabine said, pulling off her helmet. Greef - and the former 'dropper at his side who could only be his enforcer - both went wide eyed. 

"I’m sorry, I thought that was against the rules?" the 'dropper said, and Sabine and Numa traded slightly confused looks. 

"What’s that?" Sasha asked. 

"Taking off your helmet," the 'dropper said. "Our Mando, we fought together, and I like to think he trusts me as much as anyone. He said it was against the rules to take off the helmet. That once it was taken off, it could never be put back on." Sabine looked at her brothers. That was a new one.

"Different clans have different traditions," Sabine settled on saying with a shrug. It was the truth after all. The 'dropper waited, but when it was clear Sabine wouldn’t say any more, she huffed quietly. "The Mando you knew - he part of the clan here?"

The 'dropper nodded. "We split up," she said. "It’s no secret around here that he adopted a child that he was supposed to bring in for a bounty. No one here knew there was more than one Mandalorian around until he decided to take the kid back from the patron, and the guild came after him. Then the Mandalorians were coming out of the woodwork. Nearly broke the guild and then disappeared in the night."

Sabine pursed her lips, glancing to Greef. The man didn’t seem that put out by having the story shared, which meant it was well known around here, there was no point in prevaricating about those events. From what Ketsu had said, Sabine hadn’t expected much different. Still. It left them without many avenues to follow up on with regards to the rumours of Death Watch. She nodded her understanding. Finding Gideon was more important. 

"No whispers about where they might have disappeared to?" Sabine asked. "The Mand’alor is calling all the clans home to Manda’yaim." The dropper blinked, then gave a wry, roguish smile. 

"I only understood about half of what you just said," the dropper admitted. "But I think we all know you’ve got bigger problems than Din."

Sabine noted the name, and the slight grimace the 'dropper made after speaking it. That might be a useful avenue - it wasn’t a terribly common name, and their friend clearly didn’t go around giving it out to many people. 

"True enough," Sabine admitted, shifting her gaze back to Greef. "The Mand’alor - our leader - has business with Gideon. He took something from her, and his life is forfeit for crimes against Mandalore beyond number. We don’t want trouble with your guild. Stay out of our way, and there won’t be any collateral damage. Help us, and you’ll find we can be generous to our friends." She opened one of her pockets and produced a small ingot of pure aurodium. It bore both the Mand'alor's stamp, marking it as coming from her treasury, and that of Keldabe foundry. 

"A common enemy is a good place to start," Greef said. "You understand I’ll need that tested?" 

Sabine bristled slightly at the implication that the Mand'alor's mark wasn't enough of a guarantee, but nodded, reminding herself that these outsiders couldn't be expected to know of Bo-Katan's honour. "Do you know a reputable smith?" She asked, because if there _was_ a Mando community here, and they knew about it, there was a possibility they could help her meet the goran. And if she could meet the goran, she was pretty sure she could speak to them, one Mando to another. 

Greef and his bodyguard exchanged a speaking look, and his eyes dropped to her armour - pauldrons, chest plate, and gauntlets visible, beautifully crafted but not quite traditionally Mando. Sabine managed not to smirk. Yeah, they knew a smith, and they were probably a goran. 

"I’ll see if they have time to see us," the woman said, standing, and picking up the aurodium. Numa stepped forward, smiling warmly. That smile, Sabine knew, as Numa’s polite-to-strangers smile, and it routinely got her underestimated. Sabine bit back a smile of her own.

"I’ll go with you," Numa offered, and the woman gave her an appraising look. "Numa'shala Wren, Sabine’s wife," Numa offered, purposefully letting her Ryl accent show through. Cara nodded, looking between the two women and nodding, noting the ways the colours and patterns on their armour complimented one another. 

"Cara Dune," the woman said, and offered her hand. Numa took her forearm in the Mando fashion, still smiling as she held on, tilting Cara’s arm slightly to show the block-chain tattoo that ringed her bicep. 

"Well met, battle-sister," Numa said, and Cara’s gaze fell to the almost identical markings on Numa’s bicep armour. 

"Well met," Cara said with a slight smile. She turned slightly, looking to Greef. "We’ll be back soon. Don’t get yourself killed, you still owe me this month’s wages." Greef smiled at that, almost fond. 

"Sit," Greef said to those who remained, "we may as well be comfortable. I must say, the last time I saw this many Mandos in one place, they were all shooting at me, so this is a nice change."

"Oh, we may start shooting yet," Sabine said, perching on the edge of a seat to accommodate the jetpack strapped to her back. Fenn sat as well, but Sasha signed for them to leave their comms open, and he’d patrol around outside. Sabine nodded, then turned back to Greef. "My brother’s just going to take a walk around the perimeter." 

Greef hesitated, glancing at Sasha’s imposing bulk in almost solidly matte black armour, then nodded. He glanced at Fenn, who sat but didn’t take off his helmet. 

"Fenn Rau," Fenn introduced himself. Greef nodded, looking between the two of them. It took him a moment to ask the question that bubbled to the top of his mind.

"Gideon said the Mandos were purged," Greef said finally. Sabine dipped her head in acknowledgement.

"And for that he will answer to the Mand’alor," Sabine agreed. "But Mando’ade - we’re everywhere. The major population centers on the main planet of the system was decimated - more than decimated - under Imperial rule. But the other planets in Mando space weren’t as hard hit. We happen to have been on some of those other planets." Greef nodded, glancing to where Ketsu leaned against the wall. 

"How do you tie into this Onyo?" Greef asked, just short of a demand. 

"Not all Mando’ade wear t-slit helmets, Greef," Ketsu said dryly. She dipped her head to Sabine. "Wren and I were at the Imperial academy together on Manda’yaim before I started hunting." Greef nodded at that, clearly a little surprised that they were being so forthcoming. 

"You served the Empire," Greef said, looking to Sabine. 

"I did," Sabine said, because that was no secret. "Like Gideon, I was ISB."

"Ah," Greef said with a slight smile. "This is personal, not just your Mandalorian business." Sabine dipped her head, because he wasn’t entirely wrong. 

"A little from column aurek, a little from column besh," Sabine agreed. Silence settled over the table, not particularly tense, but not terribly friendly either. As they sat and waited, Sabine kept an eye on the status lights on her gauntlet. All green so far. She knew it was superstitious of her - if Numa or Sasha ran into trouble, it wasn’t like she could do anything from the cantina. Still, it eased her mind to see those little green lights on her wrist.

"So Gideon," Greef asked after they’d sat in silence a while, and Sabine managed not to snort. Still, if it was a reasonable question, she might answer. "He was really ISB?"

"He was," Sabine said, because that too was common knowledge, at least in Mando space. "I didn’t work with him, they tended not to assign us to sectors where we might run into anything that would make us question our personal commitment to the Empire. I don’t know where he was from originally, but he broke the siege in favour of the Empire using standard ISB tactics - overpowered weaponry against civilians."

"The E-web, he mentioned it," Greef said darkly, clearly bothered by the memory. Before the conversation could progress further, Fenn straightened up sharply in his seat. 

"Alert," Fenn tapped out in dadita against the table. A moment later he began to sign. "Incoming," his hands flashed sharply. "Enemy, two squads, our position." 

"Well fuck," Sabine swore. 

"What is it?" Greef asked.

"We have two squads of stormtroopers incoming," Sabine said grimly. "Clear this place out, we’ll lead them off. They’re probably here about us anyway." Greef blinked, then nodded. Sabine pulled her helmet on, allowing her to hear Sasha as he reported in. He was still a couple blocks away, and wouldn’t get back to the cantina before the stormtroopers’ armoured transport arrived. 

"We’re scrambling back to the ship," Fenn said into their comms, rising and heading toward the door. 

"We’ll be back," Sabine said out her vox, then switched over to comms. "Split up," Sabine said, "Fenn, you get back as quick as you can, get the engines spun up. I’ll get aloft, try and thin the pursuers out." Her jetpack would allow her to get to the ship more quickly than Fenn if she wished, but Fenn was more lightly armoured.

"Copy," Fenn said. While he was a scrappy fighter, he knew his piloting skills were more needed just now to get them all safe. 

"K’oyaci," Ketsu said, double checking her blasters and charges. "Sabine, ni hukaat’kama." Sabine nodded, and then she was turning for the door.

"See you back at the ship," Sasha said, and then they all went quiet, although they left the group comm on so they could hear one another. 

Sabine and Fenn headed out from the cantina, Fenn walking quickly and directly toward the landing field. Sabine turned off the main road, then started to lope along through the narrower back streets. She turned a corner, jumped, and powered on the thrusters of her jetpack. Behind her, she heard the occasional sharp crack of a trooper falling to Ketsu’s blaster. 

Looping back toward the cantina, Sabine pulled out her twin blaster pistols and toggled on her viewfinder. With a grim smile, she began raining down fire on the stormtroopers below. She managed to fell nearly half a dozen before they realized she was above them, and began firing back. 

With the line open, they all heard as Fenn let out a virulent string of swears. A moment later, they heard the familiar sound of blasters firing. Fenn’s input devolved to him chanting swears under his breath and shooting as he ran. 

There was a sharp pop, and Fenn’s input grew staticky. Helmet damage - he’d likely had his bell rung. Sabine didn’t have time to worry about him before one of the stormtroopers got lucky, hitting a glancing blow to her jetpack. She tumbled from the sky, fighting with her jetpack so she didn’t just smear across the pavement. 

Dazed, Sabine forced herself to her feet. Her ribs ached fiercely - they were definitely bruised if not broken. Her pride had taken a hit too, but she figured even stormtroopers had to get lucky once in a while. Wincing, she detached the jetpack from her harness and hurriedly rigged it into a makeshift explosive using one of the detonators from her belt.

The bomb took out a few more stormtroopers, and dazed the others, giving her a head start. Sabine reholstered one of her pistols as she headed out at a steady pace, wrapping her fingers around the baton at her hip. A flash of dirty white at the periphery of her vision, and she swallowed her pain, then lashed out, three quick strikes incapacitating a stormtrooper. Raising her blaster pistol in her other hand, she spun, targeted, fired in the same economical motion. 

Sabine was good. But she was also outnumbered. Even in beskar’gam, a Mando could only take so many hits before they went down. The tumble from the sky she’d taken earlier didn’t help matters. Eventually, she was knocked out, head ringing as her weapons were taken.

Vaguely, Sabine registered motion as she was transported. She returned to full consciousness in a fury when her helmet was roughly pulled off. Someone manhandled her by the hair, then let her fall. Sabine managed to catch herself before her head slammed against the floor, and shook her head, forcing herself to focus. 

"That is the wrong fucking Mando!" someone was shouting. "Silver armour I said. Silver! Does that look silver to you?!" She hissed in pain as she tried to move and her ribs twinged, squinting at the man pacing furiously in front of her. The light was dim, but she was pretty sure who she had been brought to. Imperial uniform, ISB torso armour, and a very familiar beskar-dark hilt clipped to the belt of their uniform. The Dha'kad. Gideon. She wriggled her hands, noting that her vambraces were gone, her wrists tightly bound. Her other weapons had been taken too. 

The door banged open, and two stormtroopers dragged Fenn in, throwing his helmet across the room with a clatter. Sabine bit down a growl - he didn’t look good. His flightsuit was singed off his back in patches, the skin beneath charred and bloody where blaster bolts had burned through the armourweave. Sabine thought it was likely a minor miracle he was alive with that sort of damage. He’d clearly accounted well for himself despite that - given how much blood was splattered over his pauldrons and arms, he’d gutted a few stormtroopers with that big knife of his, and it was clear the survivors weren’t interested in being gentle with their captive. 

"Here boss," one of the stormtroopers said, practically tossing Fenn towards Gideon. Gideon stalked over, grabbing Fenn’s chin and twisting his head up to look at his face. 

"Shab’rud’gar," Fenn gasped out, and spat blood onto Gideon’s face. 

"You fucking incompetants," Gideon hissed out, throwing Fenn to the floor, and nearly into Sabine’s lap. "The wrong fucking Mando again. I thought you idiots killed all the Mando scum on this fucking planet!" 

"Me’vaar ti gar?" Sabine quietly asked Fenn, and he gave her a bloody-mouthed grin. 

"Naas," Fenn said, "gar?" Sabine shook her head. 

"Kaden," Sabine said lightly, and a stormtrooper smacked the back of her head. 

"Shut up, Mando," the ‘trooper said, and Sabine laughed, because keeping his mouth closed and obeying orders - Fenn could manage it, but only for someone he respected. These assholes definitely didn't qualify. 

"Oh, you’re going to regret that," Fenn said, and was rewarded with a punch to the jaw, Sabine wincing slightly at the solid sound of a gloved hand hitting flesh. 

"Shut _up_ , Mando," another ‘trooper said. Fenn just laughed, his bloodied lips stretching into a feral grin. 

"Ne baatir," Fenn said, "ner riduur ven’kyr’amur." 

"Shut up, Mando!" the ‘trooper growled, and there was another sound of hand meeting face. 

"Fenn," Sabine cautioned, and he settled. She gently pulled at his chin, tilting his face so she could get a better look at him. Concussed for sure. Thoroughly beaten and shot to hell. Yeah, Sasha was going to be pissed. 

"I know that bastard is here," Gideon said, back to his pacing. As if to prove his suspicions correct, another group of stormtroopers shuffled into the hideout, frogmarching a tall Mando in burnished silver armour. "Finally!" Gideon exclaimed. "At least some of you were listening." He ripped the buy’ce off the tall Mando. "Where is it?" he demanded, and the Mando, in perfect echo of Fenn, spat on Gideon’s cheek. 

"Jate’bora burc’ya," Fenn called, and Sabine bit back a smile. 

"Uur, Fenn," Sabine chided, before someone decided to hit him again. 

"I’ve no qualms about killing more Mandos to make my point," Gideon said. "As you can see, I have spares." He gestured at Sabine and Fenn, and Sabine bared her teeth at him. "Now tell me where the asset is."

The Mando remained silent, and Sabine was profoundly unsurprised when Gideon nodded to a stormtrooper, who whipped a riot baton across Fenn’s face. Fenn turned and spat. From the clatter, he was going to need at least one new tooth.

"Your lady friend gets the next one," Gideon threatened. 

"That’d be a bad idea," Fenn said, and before he could get going on all the reasons why, the door exploded inward, followed shortly by Sasha’s well-armoured bulk. As that was the main reason why harming Sabine was a bad idea, Fenn sat back to proudly watch his spouse remind these assholes why messing with Mando'ade was unwise. 

Sasha's bo-rifle was in staff configuration, and he applied the electrified ends judiciously to the weak points in the stormtroopers’ armour as he barrelled through them like a particularly pissed off juggernaut. Numa and Cara were right behind him, Numa with her pistols and Cara with an extremely large gun, firing from the hip out into the street, protecting Numa's back. Sabine was pretty sure she could hear more shooting outside, and guessed that just might be Ketsu. The stormtroopers fired back as they were able, but in close quarters, and with slightly more balanced numbers, it wasn’t long before Sasha had the crackling emitter of his staff held threateningly to Gideon’s face. 

"The Mand’alor has business with you," Sasha bit out. Gideon’s eyes shifted, searching for an escape route. Sabine accepted Numa’s hand up, pulling Fenn with her. Cara was helping the other Mando, speaking to him softly and giving him a well-cared-for disintegrator rifle that she must have taken from the guards. That would likely be Din then, the bounty hunter whose adoption of a foundling brought Gideon to Nevarro. Sabine had thought it likely, since they were the one Gideon was looking for.

Numa found Sabine and Fenn’s helmets for them, but Fenn just secured his to his belt - his face was too torn up to even think about pulling a helmet over his head. Before she pulled hers on, Sabine leaned into Numa, pressing their foreheads together and gratefully breathing in her spouse's warm, familiar scent. From the way Numa’s fingers tangled in her hair, the Twi’lek had been just as rattled.

"Let’s not do that again," Numa said warmly, and Sabine chuckled, accepting the rest of her gear from Numa’s hand. 

"Yeah, good plan," Sabine agreed, stealing a quick kiss. She straightened, glancing over the room. All the stormtroopers were down, and Ketsu had come in, and was helping Sasha secure Gideon. The Moff was clearly fuming, but he’d clammed up now that he wasn’t the one with all the power. Good. She was tired of his voice. She turned next to Cara and her friend. "Su cuy’gar burc’ya," she greeted, and Cara and the other Mando traded confused looks. Sabine cocked her head slightly.

"Gar suvarir Mando’a, beroya?" Fenn asked at Sabine’s side, and still the other Mando didn’t answer. 

Either they were better than anyone Sabine had ever met at not reacting, or they didn’t understand Mando’a. She traded a look with Fenn, and he shrugged. The idea of one of their brethren being denied that integral part of their culture burned at Sabine, but there wasn’t anything to be done at the moment. 

"It’ll wait," Sabine said, switching to Basic. She looked over at Ketsu. "I’m guessing your ride is still set up for containment?"

"Yeah, I can bring him in for you," Ketsu agreed, understanding that Sabine and her clan still had some loose ends to tie up here. "Besides, the Mand’alor will owes me a bonus since my intel panned out." Sabine nodded, then looked around again. 

"Alright, let’s get the asshole secured, then we can finish our business," Sabine said decisively. 

"You need to visit a healer somewhere in there," Sasha called, and while he still had his helmet on, Sabine was certain his eyes were lingering on her and Fenn. 

"I’ll get Greef to send a landspeeder," Cara said, "and show you where the healer we use is." She handed her friend their helmet back, and they promptly shoved it on.

Sabine nodded. She’d definitely feel better with some bacta, and was certain Fenn would too. Across the room, Ketsu and Sasha nodded to one another, and Sasha crossed to Sabine, Numa, and Fenn. He greeted each of them with a gentle touch of their foreheads, but held Fenn for a few long moments. 

"Cuyir morut'yc," Fenn said quietly, voice slightly slurred between his concussion and the swelling of his face.

Sasha shook his head, gently stroking the nape of Fenn's neck. 

"Slanar," Fenn said, "Ni suvarir gar buirkan." Sasha held Fenn a moment longer, then stepped back, and nodded, looking at Sabine. 

"I’ll go with Ketsu," Sasha said. Sabine hesitated, but nodded. She didn’t like splitting up, but it would be better to have someone with Ketsu to help her with the prisoner. She likely didn't really need the help, but having additional security along wouldn't hurt. 

"K’oyaci," Fenn said firmly, his tone giving the multi-purpose term the meaning of _come back safely_. Sasha nodded, raising his fingers to tap his kar'ta beskar in affection and obedience, then helped Ketsu escort Gideon out the door. 

"Come along," Numa said, and looped her arm around Fenn’s waist. He winced, leaning into her heavily. Sabine followed them out the door, hugging herself with one arm to soothe her aching ribs. The street outside was mostly cleared, the pale-armoured forms of the downed stormtroopers laying in heaps where they'd fallen. The speeder Cara had sent for soon arrived, with an astromech at the steering yoke. It chirped in greeting, and they climbed in. Already Jawas and other scavengers were beginning to peer out of the shadows, ready to salvage anything of worth from the hideout as soon as the fighters left. 

The droid obviously knew where it was taking them, as Cara gave it no directions. They soon pulled into a dim alley, and Cara ushered them all out of the speeder and through an unmarked door. The healer was a businesslike Devaronian who tsked at them quietly, but didn’t ask any questions. Clearly they’d worked with bounty hunters before. Sabine’s ribs were soon slathered with bacta and then taped, and Fenn’s back and face got similar treatment, although with the additional steps of disinfecting his blaster wounds and debriding the burnt skin first. He grit his teeth through the whole process, never once crying out. 

"I’ll head back to the ship, grab you another abiik’kute from the ship," Numa said, patting Fenn’s shoulder. 

"Vor’e," Fenn said, and Numa slipped out the way they’d come in. They waited for her at the healers. When she returned, Fenn gratefully shucked off his ruined undersuit and climbed into the new one, then pulled his armour back on. 

"Cantina?" Cara said, and Sabine, Fenn, and Numa traded questioning looks. 

"Sure," Sabine said, because while she was fairly content with their business so far, she still had questions. Now that they’d fought together, hopefully Greef and this Mando - Din - would be more willing to give her answers. 

"I’d say we owe you one, but as you pointed out earlier, Gideon was as much your problem as ours," Greef said when Cara brought them back to the shot up cantina. Droids were already bustling about, patching up the damage. Another Mando was sitting tensely with Greef, a circle of conical horns decorating their bronzium toned buy’ce. Sabine analyzed their gear with a professional eye, hoping the horns didn't indicate loyalty to Maul before letting her gaze linger on the leather gloves and long leather gambeson, and noting the utility belt, and the hammer and long-handled tongs that hung from it. Goran, or Sabine was a nexu. They were concealing something in their short, fur-trimmed cape, but Sabine was content to let it be for the moment. 

"Ketsu and Sasha are securing Gideon," Sabine returned, pulling off her helmet and sitting. She nodded to the helmeted Mando. "Goran, briikase urcir gar." The other Mando cocked their head slightly, but it was the same as with Din earlier. They clearly didn’t understand Mando’a. It hurt Sabine’s heart to contemplate. A goran, one of the integral guardians of their culture, not knowing their language. 

"There is M-A-N-D-O language," signed Din. 

"We also understand Basic sign," Fenn signed. "If you are more comfortable speaking like this?" 

The two Mando’ade of Nevarro traded a long look through their helmets. 

Sabine’s comm beeped, interrupting the conversation, and a series of clicks followed - a dadita message from Sasha. He would stay with Ketsu as extra security as they transported Gideon back to Manda’yaim. 

"Copy, morut’yc abiik’kemir," Sabine said, their conversation not going out over her external vox, "ven'haa’taylir gar o’r Keldabe." The channel closed, and she switched her vox on. "That was my brother. He and Ketsu are taking Gideon to Keldabe, the main city on Mandalore, and stronghold of our leader, from whom he stole a great many things, including her nephew." 

"Perhaps you should come to my forge," the goran said, clearly wary, but also curious. 

"It would be an honour," Sabine said. An unlooked for honour, she didn’t bother to specify. That would be understood, if this goran was at all like any other Sabine knew. The forge was their sanctuary, their place of refuge. Permission to enter another’s forge was not lightly granted. But then, it was also the goran’s home territory, where they felt safest. Where they _were_ safest. The other occupants of the booth nodded, and the group rose. 

The item the goran had hidden in their cape turned out to be a small child in a carrier, who they handed to Din. Din accepted the child readily, and Sabine guessed this would be the foundling whose retrieval had started the trouble here on Nevarro. She didn’t say anything, fairly confident she’d get no answers before they were in the forge. 

They went quickly through a back room and then down a concealed hatch into the culverts that ran beneath the city. The goran led the way, Cara at their shoulder. They walked for some time, and Sabine was certain they were being taken the long way around to confuse their sense of direction. She didn’t mind too much, although she did keep a close eye on Fenn due to his earlier injuries. Her own hurts were feeling a lot better already, but she wasn’t at 100%, and knew it. If they were being led into a trap, they were at a serious disadvantage. 

When they finally reached the forge, they all sat. For a long moment silence stretched out, tension slowly building as they looked to one another, deciding who would speak first. The child cooed, and Numa softened visibly. She and Sabine had begun talking about taking in a foundling or two, but they’d wanted things to be a bit more settled first. 

"I am Sabine Wren," Sabine finally introduced herself, taking the initiative. "Scion of Clan Wren, and one of the smiths serving our leader, Bo-Katan Kryze. This is my spouse, Numa'shala of Nabat, who I met when we served in the Rebellion. This is my sibling-by-marriage, Fenn Rau, former Protector of Concord Dawn, and current commander of the Mand’alor’s starfighter corps. Ketsu Onyo, who helped us earlier, is an old friend from when I was in the Imperial Academy on Mandalore. Sasha is my older sibling, and Fenn’s spouse." 

Sabine paused, and waited. None of the others made any move to introduce themselves. She rolled her eyes in her helmet. "We came here originally because Ketsu passed word to our leader that someone on Nevarro was using the Death Watch sigil," she explained, and tapped the projector on her gauntlet to display the jai’galaar. Din shifted slightly, and Sabine was fairly certain he recognized the symbol. 

"At one time, Clan Wren followed Death Watch and their leaders, House Vizsla. But they betrayed us, and all Mando’ade, when they welcomed the Imperial presence on Manda’yaim," Sabine went on. "Bo-Katan, our leader, also used to be part of their clan, before they let outsiders claim power over us during the Separatists War. Death Watch killed her sister, and when the Empire rose, her nephew was killed by Gideon’s henchmen on the Night of a Thousand Tears.

"Bo-Katan has claimed the duties of Mand’alor and began working to unite the clans and overthrow Death Watch on Manda’yaim. It took a long time, too long perhaps, to fully throw Gideon and his Imperial Remnant out of the system, and he stole the Darksaber, one of the symbols of Mandalore’s autonomy and independence from the Mand’alor before he was captured, and believed to be executed by the New Republic. Until we arrived here, we had not yet heard of Gideon’s survival," Sabine explained. 

"I know this symbol," Din finally admitted. "I was a foundling - battle droids killed my parents, and Mandos - with this symbol - they found me, raised me among them, as one of their fighters." He paused, clearly uncertain. "I don’t remember all the worlds we passed through, but by the time we settled here on Nevarro, most of those I had grown up with were gone - either killed or split away." 

"And they did not teach you Mando’a? Our language?" Sabine asked, and both Din and the goran shook their heads. "Or’dinii’se," Sabine scoffed, mostly to herself. "Mayhap they had left the sector too long ago to remember our ways truly, or perhaps they were not brought up in our ways, but to leave you without Mando’a - without the Resol’nare," she paused, and shook her head. It didn't matter. The past couldn't be changed. 

"Death Watch has long been one of the most traditionalist factions - they would have us build our own empire, as our ancestors once did. It’s difficult for me to imagine them not teaching you our traditions, but then, as I said, perhaps they had been exiled so long ago they no longer followed our ways." 

"We follow the way of the Mandalore," the goran said firmly, and Sabine cocked her head slightly. The vox had flattened the goran's voice, but Sabine thought she'd likely pissed her counterpart off with the implication that they and Din might not be fully, properly, Mando. "After we swear to the creed, no one living may know our faces or our names," they continued. The reluctance to remove their helmets, and Cara’s chagrin at revealing Din’s name rose in Sabine’s memory. It was a related belief, she could rationalize, to the Resol’nare tenet of ara’nov - self defense. After all, if no one knew your name or what you looked like under your helmet, it made you much harder to hunt and destroy. 

"We raise foundlings, and teach them the way," the goran continued. This Sabine related to the tenet of aliit - clan, the perpetuation and defense of. It also related easily to the time-honoured marriage vow - mhi ba’juri verde. We will raise warriors. "And we protect our fellow Mandalorians." Sabine nodded again. Again, aliit and ara'nov, although broader. 

"These ways are similar to our ways, but worded slightly differently," Sabine said, her voice gentling and taking on the teaching cadence common among goran’e. "We teach our children the Resol’nare - the Six Actions. Ba'jur, beskar'gam, ara'nov, aliit, Mando'a bal Mand'alor - an vencuyan mhi. It means Education, armour, self-defence, clan, our language, and our leader - all help us survive. The armourer tests these things when we come before them, ensuring that we arm our bodies and our minds, that we are steadfast children of Mandalore before we go out into the wider galaxy." 

"This is the way," the goran said with a touch of pride. Sabine dipped her head, smiling. That cadence was exactly as Ruusaan had taught Sabine to say it, even if Sabine had learned it in Mando’a, rather than Basic. 

"Ibic haar goyust," Sabine returned, and she knew from the way that the goran dipped their head that they understood her meaning, if not her words. She sighed, not quite sure where to take things from here. She turned her head slightly, to Din and the foundling. "I would hear how you came to adopt your foundling." Din startled slightly, then dipped his head. 

"To keep the covert safe, only one of us goes above ground at a time," Din said, careful with his words, clearly not wanting to reveal too much. "I had built a good reputation in the guild, but with things so unsettled after the fall of the Empire, there wasn’t enough work. My earnings had to keep all of us fed and armed." 

Sabine nodded her understanding. A hard way to live, for all of them, and she was certain Din’s reputation and his status as the chief credit-earner bred resentment in the - covert he’d called it. 

"Greef told me the asset to be retrieved was 50 years old, and to be brought in alive," Din went on. "It was difficult, to retrieve the child. And once I surrendered them -" he paused, shoulders rising in tension. "I had to go back." Sabine nodded again. In that at least, it seemed these lost clansmen had been taught the Mando way. Harming children, even the children of enemies, was anathema to Mando'ade. 

"But once I took the child back - I had broken my contract with the guild. They were not wrong to come after me. Even asking questions was - not encouraged. But neither were the other Mandos wrong, to defend me and my foundling. After I left, we were hunted. Across planets. Across sectors. I knew there was no way to keep the child safe unless I cancelled the contract," Din said. 

Sabine knew he meant _killed the client_ , but just nodded her understanding. 

"I had met Cara in my travels, and she agreed to come with me when Greef called me in - the client was causing him trouble too. Blackmailing him. We arranged a meet, made it look like they’d captured me and the child so we could get close to the client. And then Gideon showed up," Din said, tensing at the memory. 

"So he has an interest in your foundling?" Numa asked gently, and Din nodded. 

"I don’t know what that interest is, but he paid a great deal to procure the child," Din said. 

"We’ll see what we can find out," Sabine promised. "But I warn you there will be little patience for questioning Gideon. He will likely be killed almost immediately." Cara let out a soft snort at that, and quirked a small, sharp smile when they looked at her. 

"I can’t think of many people who deserve it more," Cara said. "Good riddance." 

"You speak what is in many Mandalorian hearts," Fenn said. Numa nodded emphatically in agreement. 

"If you wish to accompany us to Manda’yaim for what trial the Mand’alor sees fit to give Gideon, you would be welcomed," Sabine said. It might provide these people some much needed closure. "Whether you stay on after that is your decision. The sector lost many under the Empire’s rule, and the Mand’alor has welcomed quite a few exiles home already, if they are willing to abide by her rules. Your ties to Death Watch would likely mean that if you wanted to stay in-system, the Protectors would keep a closer eye on you, but with the help you’ve given us so far, that likely wouldn’t last long." 

"And you can always leave, if it isn’t what you want after all," Fenn said. "The Mando’ade have always been a diaspora. You will still be Mando without ever entering the sector." 

Sabine nodded at that. "And you don’t have to decide right now," Sabine added. "I don’t want to let Ketsu and Sasha get too far ahead of us, but we have some time." 

"I have a duty to the covert," the goran said, but there was something almost wistful in their voice. "And yet to see the homeland - it is not something I ever dared dream." Sabine smiled slightly. 

"And my child?" Din asked, and Sabine cocked her head slightly. 

"I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question," Sabine admitted after a moment. 

"No one would take the child from me?" Din clarified, and Sabine nearly rocked back in shock. 

"No," Sabine answered immediately, Fenn echoing her in nearly the same moment. "Your child is yours. You have said already they were a foundling, that you have adopted them as your own. This is the way. My own brother was a foundling adopted into our clan, and adoption has always been an honoured tradition." Din’s posture visibly relaxed at that. "We’re sleeping on my ship - big silver and blue one with variable wings and starbirds on the wings," Sabine said, tapping the starbird on her own armour. 

"You’ll hear from us in a few hours," the goran said, and after a moment, Din nodded. 

"I’ll escort you out," Cara offered, and Sabine nodded. Cara rose, and Sabine noted that as she did, her fingers trailed over the goran’s arm. The goran didn’t react - they were used to having Cara in their personal space. Sabine hid a smile. She’d thought at first there might be something between Cara and Din, but they clearly related to one another more like siblings - like her and Sasha - trusted and battle-tested comrades. 

Din, the child, and the goran remained behind in the forge, and Sabine didn’t doubt that Cara would return there once she had finished her escort duties. Sabine looked to Greef as they finally exited the culvert back up into the store room of the cantina where the guild did their business. The guildmaster had been quiet for the duration. 

"That invitation extended to you, at least in so far as Gideon’s trial," Sabine said. "Your testimony could be useful." 

Greef visibly considered the offer for a moment, then shook his head. "My place is here on Nevarro, running the guild," he said. "From the sounds of it, you won’t need my help destroying Gideon." Sabine nodded at that, because it was the truth. "But you’re free to go Cara," Greef said. "I have enjoyed having you as my protector." 

Cara gave that slight smile again. "I haven’t made up my mind yet," she said. "Although I admit I’ll probably go with the Mandos if they go." Greef nodded at that, and Sabine wondered just what the relationship between the shock trooper and the goran was. "I’ll call the speeder ‘round again, to take you out to the lava flats," she offered, looking appraisingly over Fenn. 

"Appreciated," Fenn said. Sabine knew he had to be on his last legs. As soon as they got back to the ship, she was sending him to bed. She and Numa could handle things from here out. 

Fenn put up very little resistance when Sabine sent him to his bunk as soon as the ship was secured, which did nothing to reassure her about his condition. Numa gave Sabine a speaking look, and Sabine smiled fondly, leaning up to brush their foreheads together in a grateful kiss before following Fenn to make sure he got safely to his berth. When she had Fenn all tucked in - grumbling the whole time - she returned to the galley area, where Numa had already prepared some shig. Sitting, Sabine pulled off her helmet and put her head down on the table with a groan. 

"Ka’ra, Numa, how did Mando’ade get so far removed from their homeland as this?" Sabine asked. Numa wound an arm around her and leaned close. 

"Death Watch, even I know they have been exiled many times by many leaders," Numa said. "It is no surprise really, that they did not follow the exact same traditions. Remember how popular Oola and Lyn’s dance classes are for the Twi’lek among the Mando’ade? For all we are gladly Mando, we are still Twi’lek, neither replaces the other. And these Mando’ade, they are simply Mando in a different way." 

"It’s just so hard for me to understand, after how hard we’ve fought to keep our culture," Sabine said. 

"And they have too," Numa reminded, and Sabine nodded. The Mando'ade in Nevarro's covert had lost their language, and some of the other tenets of the Resol’nare. But the ones they still kept were some of the most important - self defense, and defense of the clan. The gaps were so glaring, but they had persevered in spite of losing so much. 

"It’s like a twisted mirror," Sabine said thoughtfully. "Like what all of Manda’yaim could have become under the Empire, or if we hadn’t been able to force them out of the sector." Numa nodded at that, understanding how that would distress Sabine, who was so proud of her people and their traditions. 

"Or under the Duchess," Numa said, and Sabine nodded. Her own family had been exiled to Krownest by the New Mandalorians for their allegiance to Death Watch, and the traditions of old. If Satine Kryze and her faction of pacifists had had their way, Manda’yaim would have been completely helpless when the Empire rose - unarmed and undefended. While the death of the Duchess had thrown the system into chaos, Sabine couldn’t help but be a little glad she’d never lived under Satine Kryze’s rule. 

With a sigh, Sabine leaned into Numa, turning her face to rest her forehead against Numa’s temple. Numa let out a soft hum, shifting slightly so Sabine’s face didn’t press against her sensitive hearing-cone. Her arm around Sabine shifted, and she gently stroked at the soft, short hair at the back of Sabine’s head. Sabine sighed, relaxing into Numa. 

"I’ll be glad to go home," Sabine mumbled. 

"Mmm," Numa agreed. "We should go to Krownest for a bit after the trial," she suggested. "It’s been too long since we gave your parents an excuse for a party." Sabine chuckled at that. 

"Time to think more seriously about a foundling of our own?" Sabine guessed, and felt Numa’s shoulder move against her side in a shrug. 

"It would be nice to have a little one to teach," Numa said, and Sabine smiled. 

"It would," Sabine agreed. They'd talked about it before; Numa's work meant they often had temporary fosterlings. But seeing Din with his foundling - his devotion to the little one - made the idea seem more duracrete. More attainable. If a single, itinerant bounty hunter could be a good parent, so too could they. "I’m still a little surprised Sasha and Fenn haven’t adopted me a whole bunch of niblings yet. And Bodhi doesn’t count." Numa chuckled quietly at that. Bodhi was definitely family, but he wasn’t a foundling in the traditional sense. 

"Rest, I have the watch for now," Numa urged after they’d sat leaned together like that for a while. "I know you aren’t as badly banged up as Fenn, but healing takes time. Go, check on him, then rest." 

Sabine smiled, because her spouse knew her well, then nodded and rose, pausing to touch foreheads with Numa one more time before heading into the cabins. As Numa suggested, Sabine checked on Fenn, and was unsurprised to find him dressed in Sasha’s sleepwear and laid out on his belly, snoring gently. The stress lines that had been on his face earlier were eased away in sleep. She laid her hand on the back of his neck for a moment, just feeling his warmth. He was okay. They would all be okay. Sabine slipped back out of the cabin silently, and went to find her own berth. She stripped to her underclothes and washed her hands and face, then slipped into her bunk, sighing happily to find the pillows and sheets still smelled like Numa. 

A few hours later, Sabine woke as Numa quietly entered the cabin. Sitting up, Sabine rubbed sleep from her eyes, surprised how well she had rested. Some of it was probably the adrenaline crash - they’d had an exciting day. 

"The others - Din and Cara and their goran - will come to Mandalore, but they’ll come in Din’s ship," Numa relayed. Sabine nodded. She had expected they’d come in their own ship if they decided to come. 

"Alright. Let’s relay the coordinates and landing clearances, then I’ll let Keldabe know we’re on our way. You’d probably better be the one that gets us off the ground," Sabine said. 

Numa nodded, and Sabine quickly pulled on her beskar’gam before following Numa out of the cabin. In the main corridor, she whistled for the astromech, and it whistled back before trundling over. It was an old R4 unit, that like Hera Syndulla’s C1, had been salvaged from a downed Republican craft during the fighting on Ryloth decades before. Unlike Syndulla’s C1-10P, it was fairly even tempered. 

"Hello," Sabine greeted, stepping out of her kom'rk to greet the others on even ground. She noted but didn't mention the sturdy packs that Cara and the goran toted. "This is R4-D12, called Deet. If you allow me to escort you to your ship, Deet can give you the appropriate jump coordinates and clearance codes." 

Numa stepped forward and held out a few dataships. "These have some basic information about Mandalore that I pulled together." 

They accepted the datachips, and Sabine raised her arm to click her wrist to Numa’s in appreciation. Numa smiled, and tapped their hand-plates together in a quick kiss, then headed back up into the ship. She would begin pre-flight, Sabine knew, while Sabine took care of coordinating with the other ship. 

"My ship is there, the Razor Crest," Din said, gesturing to a Separatist Wars relic. Its polished durasteel hull gleamed under the weak sunlight, and it looked to be in fairly good shape. She nodded, and followed them over to the vessel. The cockpit was on the upper level, and she followed Din there, although Cara and the goran headed belowdecks. In the cockpit, a small contraption awaited the child, and they cooed happily as they were placed inside. Sabine couldn’t help her small smile. 

"Dataport?" Sabine asked, glancing around, and Din pointed it out. "Go for it Deet," Sabine ordered, and with a whistle, Deet rolled over to the port, extended their interface arm, and transferred the appropriate data to the Razor Crest’s navcomp. When it was done, Deet retracted their arm and rolled back to Sabine’s side with a whistle. "Thanks Deet," Sabine said, and patted their semi-conical head. "We’ll see you in Keldabe," she told Din. "Deet gave you our comm codes in case you run into trouble." 

Din nodded, and Sabine showed herself back to her kom’rk. Numa already had the engines spun up, and so Deet rolled on ahead and ported in as Sabine dropped into the co-pilot’s chair. Numa flipped the last few switches, double checked their sensors, and then the thrusters were pushing them up into the air. The airfoils swivelled and locked into place, and the kom’rk accelerated up, soon breaking Nevarro’s gravity well. Numa punched in the coordinates, and then the pale lights of realspace streaked into the long lines of hyperspace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a:**  
>  Abiik'kute = flightsuit (from abiik = air, kute = underwear, bodysuit, something worn under armor)  
> Cabur = Protector  
> Cuyir morut'yc = I am safe  
> Dadita = code used by Mandalorians, like Morse  
> Dha'kad = Darksaber  
> Elek = yes  
> Gar ijaat ni = you honour me  
> Gar suvarir Mando’a, beroya = you understand Mando'a bounty hunter  
> Goran, briikase urcir gar = armourer, happy to meet you  
> Hodasalar = camouflage, cover up (here used to mean a headscarf)  
> Ibic haar goyust = This is the way (approximate, using the rare definite article haar)  
> Jai'galaar = shriek-hawk, the sigil of Death Watch  
> Jate'bora = good job  
> Jate'bora burc'ya = good job friend  
> Kaden = angry  
> Ka'ra = stars - ancient Mandalorian myth - ruling council of fallen kings  
> K'oyaci = 1. Cheers! 2. Can also mean: Hang in there or 3. Come back safely. Literally, a command; Stay alive!  
> Lek = yeah  
> Mandokar = the right stuff, the epitome of Mando virtue - a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty and a lust for life  
> Me'vaar ti gar = How are you? (Lit: what's new with you?) Can also be used to ask a soldier for a sitrep. If a Mando asks you this, they expect an answer; it's literal. The response for "I'm fine thanks," is Naas. (Literally - nothing. )  
> Morut’yc abiik’kemir = safe flight (flight from abiik = air, kemir = walk)  
> Naas = nothing. Also used to mean "I'm fine" when asked how you are  
> Ne baatir = no worry  
> Ner riduur ven’kyr’amur = my husband will kill (you)  
> Ni briikase = I (am) happy  
> Ni hukuut'kama = I'm covering your back  
> Ni linibar ruusaanyc goran = I need a reliable blacksmith  
> Ni suvarir gar buirkan = I understand your responsibility  
> Or’dinii’se = idiots  
> Shab'rud'gar = fuck you (from shab'rudur = mess with - very strong language in Mando'a, so use only in extreme circumstances)  
> Slanar = go  
> Uur = silence  
> Ven'haa’taylir gar o’r Keldabe = see you in Keldabe  
> Ver'gebuir = bodyguard lit: hired guardian (almost-father)  
> Vor'e = thanks


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this section there is some Ryl as well as Mando’a. Ryl sourced from [Twi'lek Lore](http://twileklore.nimanet.org/?page_id=34). Translations are in hovertext and in the end of chapter notes, same as Mando'a.

It was a few days to Keldabe, even with the powerful engines of their ship pushing them through hyperspace at terrific speed. They reverted to realspace just outside Manda’yaim’s gravity well, and Fenn, who was on duty as pilot, commed down to Keldabe to let them know they were incoming and see if their guests had arrived yet. Sasha and Ketsu, they were told, had arrived, but the Razor Crest was still on its way. They were given their standard landing instructions after that, and were soon queuing into the Keldabe traffic patterns. 

As one of the Mand’alor’s representatives, Sabine had the privilege of setting down within Keldabe city limits, at the fortress’ spaceport. The kom’rk was soon settled into its designated space, and they disembarked, leaving the maintenance to the skilled grounds crew. Sasha was waiting for them at the exit, and he and Fenn embraced in greeting, heads falling together in a long kiss. When they parted, Sasha embraced Sabine and then Numa. 

"Su’cuy," Sabine said, and they went into the fortress. 

Sasha updated them on the situation as they walked. He’d begun questioning Gideon, but hadn’t got a lot out of him. Like Sasha and Sabine, Gideon would have been extensively trained as an ISB agent in resisting interrogation. Sasha hadn’t started getting creative yet, and Sabine knew he wouldn’t want to delve too deeply into that part of their training. They had been in the Investigations branch rather than Interrogations for numerous reasons, and the fact that they weren’t sadists was one of those reasons. 

While Sabine and Sasha knew how to break prisoners, neither was proud of those skills. Still, if their Mand’alor demanded it, they would do it. The drug cocktails available to them in Keldabe might not be the same as the ones used when they served the Empire, but they still had a pharmacopoeia of truth serums, neurotoxins, and pain inducers they could use on their captive if Gideon was uncooperative.

That night, the Wrens dined privately with Bo-Katan. The Razor Crest hadn’t arrived yet, its engines not as powerful as those on Sabine’s kom’rk. They avoided the topic of Gideon, and other work related matters. Instead they told tall tales and teased one another, the Wrens happy to be reunited once more, and Bo-Katan enjoying their reflected joy. 

Morning brought the Razor Crest, and word had gone out before their arrival that the Mand’alor had the former Moff Gideon in custody, and that he would be tried for his crimes. Everyone knew it would be less a trial in truth, and more a public castigation and likely execution. The population of Keldabe swelled, and clan leaders sworn to Bo-Katan filled the guest quarters of the fortress. With the influx, no one blinked twice at the presence of Din, Cara, and their goran friend. The Mand’alor even sent for representatives from the Republic to witness the event. 

Sasha and Sabine were pleased that those representatives, when they arrived, included Cassian Andor, now part of Republic Intelligence. Like Zeb and some of their other friends from the Rebellion, Cassian had stayed in touch with Sabine and Sasha, although they couldn’t really mention their work in their communiques. Cassian had stayed in touch with Bodhi too, and the others watched bemusedly when Cassian saw the pilot in his full Mando Cabur’e kit for the first time when Bodhi came home that evening. Cassian just stared as Bodhi swept off his helmet, strands of his loosely braided back hair fluttering about his face. 

"Hi," Cassian breathed, staring at Bodhi. 

"Hi Cassian," Bodhi returned with a smile, and Cassian flushed rather adorably. "Let me get cleaned up, it’s good to see you." 

Over Cassian’s head, Sasha and Fenn exchanged a look, and a silent conversation on whether or not they should encourage the obvious mutual attraction between Bodhi and Cassian. Sasha already thought of Cassian as a brother to an extent - the bond of being Fulcrum agents had cemented that between them when they were both Rebel Intelligence. 

"Let them figure it out," Fenn signed, and Sasha nodded. 

Also among the representatives, along with the expected dignitaries, were a handful of old clones, veterans of the siege of Mandalore, and the Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Cassian said that Kenobi, while keeping the new iteration of the Jedi more distant from the government than their predecessors, was more or less acknowledged as the closest the Republic had to a specialist on Mando’ade. He was there in that capacity, a theoretically impartial observer with knowledge and understanding of the Mando culture, rather than as a Jedi.

* * *

With so many outsiders flooding Keldabe, the Cabur’e were busy patrolling and keeping order. It was perhaps to no one’s surprise when some of those outsiders tried to cause trouble. The arrest rate shot up almost exponentially, and Tristan came home every night in a truly foul mood. Many of those arrested were Imperial sympathizers if not outright supporters of Gideon’s autocratic rule. 

Numa, despite usually being assigned to off world missions, picked up a few shifts doing crowd control. Sabine patrolled inside the palace - she might not officially be a Cabur like the rest of her Keldabe based family was, but most recognized her as a goran in service to the Mand'alor, and therefore an emissary of the Mand'alor. Even Sasha put in some hours on patrol in the city, his black-armoured bulk a good deterrent against general stupidity.

The trial itself was public; anyone with accusations or evidence to present was given the chance to stand in front of the Mand’alor and make their case. Gideon, bound and well guarded, was kept to the side of the audience chamber, the Cabur’e around him bristling with animosity as Gideon’s atrocities were recited at length in Mando'a and Basic. Their guests from Nevarro eventually stepped forward and added their testimony, and it was only then that Sabine learned the name of the goran - Sen Adenn - and Din’s second name - Djarin - as that information had to be entered into the official trial records.

They spoke little about the covert itself, but Din mentioned his child, and the bounty he had saved the foundling from. Sen spoke of how after Din and his foundling had left, her forge had been invaded, the other members of their group - their tribe - hunted like vermin. Some of their clan, it was clear, had perished, overwhelmed by the sheer number of bodies Gideon threw at them. Some, Sen allowed, had abandoned their armour and fled, incognito, to places of safety.

Din picked the story back up at his return to Nevarro, how he and Greef and Cara had organized the trap meant for the client. Gideon, they acknowledged, had not been part of the planning. They - and most of the rest of the galaxy - had thought Gideon dead. And even after he resurfaced, Din had thought Gideon destroyed in the crash of his TIE. If he had known Gideon lived, he wouldn't have left Nevarro undefended. 

The aggression Gideon had shown on Nevarro was but a drop in the bucket, counted against everything else he had done. But it showed that even years later, even thought dead by most, he was still a dangerous adversary. It showed he was without remorse for his actions against Manda’yaim. 

No one was surprised when the Mand’alor sentenced Gideon to death. If there was a surprise, it was that she would deign to perform the deed herself. Quite a few argued that he didn't deserve the honour of dying at her hand. They agreed that his death should be public, but there were arguments both for a firing squad or a gibbet that made sense. Bo-Katan stood by her decision. Gideon's life was hers to end. 

Less surprising was members of Gideon’s Imperial remnant attacking the public execution when the Mand’alor ignited the Darksaber to take off Gideon’s head. 

The Cabur’e had anticipated there would be trouble. Sasha and the other intelligence experts had been hearing rumours, and monitoring their informants. Bo-Katan swung, ending Gideon’s life in a flash of black light as the crowd gathered in the square turned into a riotous mob. There were a few minutes of chaos, but the battered plastoid alloy of old stormtrooper armour was no match for a few hundred pissed off Mando’ade. Very few of the ‘troopers survived to be taken in for questioning. 

Sabine saw Cara and Din take up almost protective positions on either side of their goran, using their long guns while Sen battered any 'trooper that came in reach with hammer and tongs. Sabine and Numa watched one another's backs, and Sabine could see other partners and families doing the same. Sasha, still overprotective after the damage Gideon’s forces had inflicted on Fenn on Nevarro, fought his way to his spouse’s side at his first opportunity. Fenn tapped their forearms in greeting, then turned back to back with Sasha, eyes scanning the crowd for anything that looked like trouble. 

As soon as the fighting subsided, Sabine saw Sasha herd Fenn into the fortress, crowding him into a convenient alcove and using his large form to shelter them both for a moment. Fenn could hear Sasha’s ragged breathing, and allowed himself to be pinned and protected. If the situation on Nevarro had been reversed, he’d be feeling just as defensive afterwards, and knew it. 

"Ni jahaala," Fenn reassured. He reached up, pulling Sasha’s helmet down into a kiss. 

"Ni kar’taylir," Sasha said. His good leg buckled as the adrenaline faded, and he went to his knees, pulling Fenn down with him. Fenn knelt straddling Sasha’s lap, clinging to his broad shoulders and being held in turn. Sasha’s big hands swept down his back to cup his ass and pull him as close as possible. Fenn rested his forehead against Sasha’s, trembling with the adrenaline rush and need. One of Sasha’s hands stayed on Fenn’s ass, keeping them pressed tight together. The other clasped the back of Fenn’s neck, holding their heads together as they both came down. 

"Kaysh nu ven'shupuur tug’yc," Fenn said.

"Ni kar’taylir," Sasha said again. He shuddered, then lowered his head onto Fenn’s shoulder. "Ni kar’taylir darasuum."

"Ni kar’taylir," Fenn answered fondly. 

They remained like that a moment more, then finally rose together. Sasha would have new prisoners to interrogate and data to sift through, and Fenn had patrols to oversee. Of the few attackers taken alive, most were persuaded to share their knowledge, understanding that their cause was lost, and the Empire would never again rise in the Mando sector. 

That night, the Mand’alor hosted a feast, in remembrance of those lost under Imperial rule, and in honour of those who had helped her restore home rule to Mando space. It was a solemn occasion, but needed. The names of the honoured dead were recited in remembrance through the night, the Mand’alor leading with the recitation of her whole family before others chimed in, filling the great banqueting hall with the ghosts of those who marched far away. Even their non-Mando guests caught onto the tradition, and some named their own lost.

* * *

In an audience a few days after Gideon’s execution, Din and Sen told the Mand’alor and her intelligence officers of their tribe of covert Mando. Such coverts, according to them, formed and disbanded as needed to protect their members. It was not quite the same as a clan, but it was something that came close. 

Bo-Katan listened carefully, and so too did Sasha, who had missed the original interview between Sabine and the Mando’ade of Nevarro. Sasha asked questions, but didn’t press too hard. The covert Mando would be difficult to track, and seemed to bear no ill-will toward Bo-Katan and her reign. As long as they weren’t actively planning any action against the Mand’alor, she was willing to extend her hand to them in peace, and offer them the right to return to Mando space.

Life slowly returned to normal on Manda’yaim after Gideon's execution, although their guests from Nevarro stayed on. Din went exploring, in search of the homeland his adoptive parents had described in stories. Sen visited the forges, Cara at their shoulder. They watched as the goran’e of Manda’yaim operated their trade, creating arms and armour, and drilling their clients on Mando traditions. Eventually, Sen decided that their place was on Nevarro. While the covert there had disbanded, they were certain that others would show up eventually, and Sen planned to be there, forge burning, to greet them. 

Cara, as Sabine had suspected, had a certain fondness and respect for Sen - and her job as Greef’s protector waiting. Din would take them back, but hadn’t made up his own mind whether or not to stay on Nevarro. The world held both good and bad memories, being where he had found the child he now claimed as his own, and where he had nearly lost them. 

Bo-Katan promised him - and Sen, and even Cara - that they would always be welcome in the Mando sector. As Sabine had told them on Nevarro, the Mand’alor was accepting many exiles back into the fold.

As Numa had suggested, when things had died back down after the trial and execution, the Wrens went back to Krownest. Bodhi was with them, Fenn’s clan member even if he wasn’t officially adopted, and Cassian trailed after him as a guest. Numa’s uncles lived there in the compound with Sabine’s parents, and were equally happy to see them. Some of the veterans who had come for the trial also visited as Boil and Waxer’s guests, despite not having served in the same battalion. They were, as the old marching song said, brothers all, and welcome on Krownest.

The house was crowded with so many people visiting, and it filled Sabine with joy to see her homeplace overflowing. While they had hosted more at parties many times, that was different than seeing how the clan had grown since she was a child. Sasha might have been the first new addition, but he hadn’t been the last. Many of the Clan Wren fighters who had fought alongside Sabine in the Rebellion had, like her, found life-partners among their comrades, and many of those spouses had come to call the Mando system home. 

There was a feast the first night, casual and celebratory. Waxer, the more outgoing of Numa’s uncles, told tall tales about the war and his, Boil, and Numa’s adventures on Ryloth since. At his side, Boil rolled his eyes and occasionally let out a disbelieving scoff. It was clearly a practiced routine, and Numa watched them with an indulgent smile. Between the two of them, the other GAR veterans, and Fenn, it soon turned into an exercise in seeing who could tell the most bantha poodoo without giving away that it was a pile of lies. 

Fenn even managed to rope Sasha into it, despite that Sasha had been much younger, and Fleet rather than GAR. Still, they were war stories, and such were always appreciated among the Mando'ade - and the vode. It was good, Sabine thought, for Sasha to remember the better days of his service, before the Empire had sullied his oaths.

During the visit, Sabine spent time with Ruusaan in the forge too. Neither of them talked much, just enjoyed each other's company as they worked. There was always something to do, repairs to make, or small parts to stock. 

Sabine spent time with her parents too - talking art with her father, and clan business with her mother. Both, Sabine could tell, were a lot more relaxed than they had been under Imperial rule. Bo-Katan had returned the system to the old traditions of minimal governmental oversight, each clan seeing to their own business and only appealing to the Mand’alor or Cabur’e on the most serious of matters, or when they needed someone to mediate between them and another of the clans.

"Numa and I have been talking about taking in a foundling," Sabine mentioned one evening as she sat with her mother and Ruusaan after dinner, watching as Sasha and Fenn played cu’bikad. Cassian and Bodhi were flirting nearby, while Alrich and Tristan had their heads bowed together in conversation.

"Oh?" Ursa asked, dark eyes glittering, and Sabine laughed quietly. Sabine nodded. 

"We’d talked about it a bit before, since it’s such a big part of building a life together," Sabine said. "But the mission to Nevarro - you saw Djarin’s foundling?"

Ursa nodded, and Sabine returned the gesture. 

"So we’ve started talking about it more," Sabine said.

"Well, you’ve proven to have good taste in foundlings so far," Ursa said, eyes resting on Sasha. She smiled. "Any child you choose shall be as dearly loved as your brother." Sabine nodded, allowing her eyes to settle on Sasha as well. She had chosen well, so far as her big brother went. "His brother?" Ursa asked carefully, dipping her head slightly toward where Bodhi and Cassian sat slightly too close together. 

"Cassian was a Fulcrum agent with us," Sabine said, despite knowing her mother already knew that. "He’s soft on Fenn’s foundling, and the feeling seems to be mutual, but he’s Republic intel. I’m not sure where his heart will settle, although his ties to Sasha and Bodhi are strong - even his bond with me." Ursa nodded. "And he is a foundling, although he might not accept adoption if it were offered." Ursa laughed quietly at that. 

"So many foundlings," Ursa said with a note of regret. "What a galaxy you will inherit." 

There wasn’t anything Sabine could say to that. The galaxy had been devastated by decades of wars and tyranny. There were innumerable parentless children in need of good homes, and despite the generosity of the Mando adoption impulse, they couldn’t realistically take in every foundling in need of a family.

"We shall make it a better galaxy for them," Sabine said firmly, and Ursa patted her shoulder proudly.

After a week of relaxation and family fun, the Wrens based in Keldabe returned to the fortress, and many of their guests dispersed. A few of the old ‘troopers remained with Boil and Waxer, and there was talk about integrating them, and perhaps some of their other fellows, properly into the clan. The clones could technically, after all, be deemed foundlings, even if they were all grown and grey. 

Not long after their return to Keldabe, Numa’s unit was tapped to follow up on reports of traffickers harassing the shipping lanes at the edge of Mando space. Sabine and Numa parted with a touch of their helmets, Numa going on this mission in her full beskar’gam, rather than the partial set she’d worn to Nevarro. 

Sabine had crafted and painted the armour herself, as a wedding present. The plates and helmet were 212th gold, affixed to a black undersuit. The detailing was mostly in the Wren Clan patterns, but in bright pink and teal, and Numa tended to wear a hodasalar under her helmet. Knowing her spouse was so well protected eased Sabine’s mind when Numa was away on missions - she knew Numa could take care of herself, but exhaustive understanding of just how sturdy beskar’gam was helped a great deal.

* * *

The next few weeks, Sabine threw herself into her work to distract herself from Numa’s absence. She also thought more about their recent discussions about taking on a foundling of their own. Seeing the little one Din Djarin had taken on had awakened both of their parental urges. When asked what she was contemplating so seriously, Sabine talked over the prospect with Tristan, Sasha, Fenn, and Bodhi. Since the group of them all lived together, any decision made would impact them too. All of them were for the idea, not that Sabine had suspected otherwise. 

"We’ve been thinking about it too," Sasha said, gesturing between himself and Fenn. "Since Bod’ika technically isn’t a foundling and therefore doesn’t get to be used as a tithing deduction." Sabine snorted, and Bodhi shook his head at that. He was glad to be included in their family, and his not being a foundling had become a gentle tease that almost always elicited a smile. They’d need bigger quarters, was the general consensus, if Sabine and Numa did take in a foundling. And they’d have to be more careful with their scheduling to make sure there was always an adult around to be a responsible party. 

After the tumult that had resulted from their mission to Nevarro, Sabine thought stepping back from off-world missions might be a good thing for her. She still wanted to serve her Mand’alor, but the idea of setting her blasters aside had unexpected appeal. She’d noted too, that Sen Adenn carried no weapons. The other goran could likely do significant damage with the hammer and tongs strapped to their belt, but they hadn’t carried a blaster, or even a knife that Sabine had noticed. 

By the time Numa was scheduled to return, Sabine had some ideas to talk over with her spouse. Nothing would be decided until they’d had a chance to discuss their options, but Sabine felt good about her options. Once they reached a decision together, she’d speak to the Mand’alor. 

Eager to welcome Numa home, Sabine double checked her spouse’s ETA, then closed down her forge a little early and went up into the entry hall of the fortress to wait. She found Sasha already there, down from the intelligence offices to greet Fenn. They clicked vambraces in greeting, and talked idly for a little bit as they waited. 

After a few minutes, Sasha alerted like a keyn catching an interesting scent. A moment later Sabine saw why. Fenn had walked in, and he was swaggering a bit more smugly than usual. Inside her helmet, Sabine grinned, sensing an opportunity to tease Sasha.

"Sabine?" Sasha said very calmly at her side. 

"Hmmm?" Sabine hummed, glancing up at him. His visor, as she had expected, was fixed toward Fenn. 

"If you say a single fucking word about how much I’m gagging for Fenn’s kad, I will tell you in explicit detail how much I want to be choked on Fenn’s kad," Sasha warned coolly, proving he could read her just as well as she could read him. Because she had definitely been about to tease him about how bad he wanted to peel Fenn out of his armour. 

"Ewwww," Sabine said, and although she couldn’t see it, she knew Sasha smirked. 

"Good day at the office?" Sasha asked when Fenn came within speaking distance, because he knew Fenn had been excited about meeting with MandalMotors that afternoon to talk about potential improvements on the Fang fighters.

"Very good day at the office," Fenn agreed, tapping his vambrace gently against Sasha’s, then Sabine’s in greeting. Sasha leaned down to touch their helmets in a kiss, and Fenn pressed up into his affection. 

"You guys are so embarrassing," Sabine sighed fondly. 

"Like you and Numa aren’t just as bad," Fenn scoffed, then pulled Sasha on toward their apartment. Sabine waved them off, remaining in the more trafficked areas of the fortress, waiting for her own spouse. Numa had been off on mission for a couple weeks, and Sabine was looking forward to her imminent return.

After a little more waiting, the big doors leading back to the hangar swung open, and Sabine grinned as the first few members of Numa’s unit entered. Her grin faded as she realized that they were walking slowly, and there were a few very short people trailing after them, or carried in their arms. Sabine cast her memory back. Traffickers. Which meant these little ones had been stolen away from everything they knew. 

Sabine straightened, eyes roving. There. Numa was just striding into the fortress, a child carried on her hip. Two thin, stubby lekku hung limp from the little one’s head. They’d fostered children recovered from similar situations before, but never so close on the heels of Sabine thinking so seriously about adoption. There was procedure to follow - they couldn’t just unilaterally declare the child their own. There might still be some family out there with claim on them.

"Su’cuy," Sabine greeted, pulling off her helmet so the little one could see her face. "Tion’ad gar ganar olar?"

"Su’cuy," Numa greeted in turn. "Kei’nata tun," she said more formally in Ryl, although she didn’t make the accompanying gestures of greeting since her hands were full. The child likely didn’t know Basic, since Numa had spoken her mother-tongue. Sabine’s Ryl had become quite good with Numa’s help, and she was doubly glad of it now. 

"Kei’nata tun," Sabine said in return.

"Vrei, ash eskaa’lia, Sabine," Numa said gently. The child - Vrei - looked up warily. Their greenish eyes were dull in their round, ochre-skinned face. They wore a light green medbay smock, which meant at least a medic had given them a once over, and made sure they were alright. No headcovering, but hearing-cones instead of ears, which meant they likely identified as female.

"Kei’nata tun, Vrei," Sabine said, directing her attention to the child. "Fendoon Manda’yaim."

"Kei’nata tun, Vashna Sabine," Vrei said quietly and carefully. 

Numa spoke quietly to Vrei, explaining that they would stop at a healer now, and then Vrei would stay with them until someone contacted Ryloth to try and find her family. From Numa’s tone, gentle but practiced, Sabine could guess that all of this had been said before, and was being said again as reassurance. 

"Ne’suvarir Mando’a ne Basic," Numa told the healer when they stopped into the medical ward of the fortress. "Shi Ryl." 

The healer nodded their understanding, and Numa interpreted for the rest of their visit. Sabine listened carefully, wanting to know the child’s situation. Malnourished, dehydrated, some bumps and bruises. The traffickers, Numa said through grit teeth, had been being careful. All the ‘cargo’ freed were young, female, and Twi’lek. It wasn’t a surprise, really, to know that Numa’s people were being targeted. As long as there had been a slave trade, female Twi’lek were one of the chief exports of Ryloth. 

While the healer and Numa talked over next steps, Sabine sent a quick text message to their group chat, to let her brothers know that they’d be having company for a little while. Given Numa’s connections on Ryloth, they’d know fairly quickly if there was a home for Vrei to return to. Until then, Vrei would be fostered in their home. It wouldn't be the first time a victim was in their custody, sometimes to help them integrate into Mando life, or protect them while they found their feet.

The next day, Sabine didn’t go in to the forge, instead showing Vrei around the fortress and letting her play in one of the nearby public gardens. The greenery seemed to ease the child a bit, and she was willing to talk a bit about home - parents and a brother, in a mining town in the mountains. Off-worlders had come when her parents were at work, and the teacher of the dancing class had spoken with them, let them walk through the studio and pointed out some of the girls. The girls selected had been bundled onto the ship, and they hadn’t seen sunlight since. 

"We’re taking her over to Concord Dawn," Sabine said that night, when Numa came home and reported that she’d been in contact with Cham’syndulla and that the parents of all the stolen children were being sought, as were the trusted teachers who’d betrayed them. Numa tilted her head thoughtfully, then nodded. Most wouldn’t agree that taking a newly freed child to a tapcafe specializing in Twi’lek dancing women would be a good idea, but Numa understood Sabine’s intent. If there was anyone who could understand what Vrei had gone through, and help the child make sense of it, it would be Oola’bonduna and Lyn’me.

"Good plan," Numa said, dipping her head in agreement. "It will be good for her to see that she has a future still." 

They went the next day, going in the morning when the T’ad Twi’lek’e served more as a Twi’lek cultural center than a bar. Lyn was leading a group of local children in a traditional Twi’lek folk tune, while Oola taught a dance class. The smell of traditional Twi’lek spices wafted out from the kitchen, and through the door the new cook Jek Luwquane could be seen bopping his head in time to the music as he worked. As usual, Boba sat by the door, the picture of a lazing but alert predator, ready to defend their people. 

Numa handled the introductions in Ryl, while Sabine settled at Boba’s side. He grunted in greeting, and Sabine snorted, dipping her head. She debated asking the question on her tongue, knowing it really wasn’t her business. But she’d never really let that consideration stop her before. 

"Meg ven’riduurok gar?" Sabine asked, nodding towards Oola, then Lyn, and Boba’s foot thumped heavily to the floor as he turned to stare at her. She just waited, well aware his answer might be to tell her to kriff off. Finally, Boba let out a bark of laughter, then eased back into his relaxed pose. 

"Bintar," Boba said, then shrugged. "Nasaad. Cuy ogir'olar."

"N’ade?" Sabine asked, slightly surprised. Boba shrugged again.

"Val gaanader," Boba said, more firmly than his equivocal shrug had conveyed. Sabine nodded, and let it lay. 

When they left, Vrei was more settled in her skin, chattering away in Ryl. It did Sabine’s heart good to see it. Vrei’s exuberance when word came a few days later that her parents were on their way to fetch her was a bit more bittersweet. Over their time with Vrei in their home, Sabine had begun to imagine raising this brightening child as her own.

"One of the children was sold by a family member," Numa said grimly, once Vrei was tucked into bed. "They have no other family left."

"Tell me about them," Sabine requested, and Numa smiled sadly. 

"Seela’secura," Numa said, opening a file with an image of a thin faced child. "She’s barely ten Standard, and was the best dancer in her class. The instructor who sold her was her uncle’s wife, and the uncle has been arrested alongside the dance teacher as party to the conspiracy. They’re both likely going to prison for life, and even if they weren’t, I couldn’t conscience returning her to such people." 

Sabine nodded. She could very much agree with that. 

"She knows? That her uncle was part of this as well?" Sabine asked, and Numa nodded. 

"Like all of them, she’s been spending time with a counsellor," Numa said. "She knows, and also that a family can be found for her here." Numa paused, looking up at Sabine intently. "She isn’t Vrei, and I know you two have bonded. But - do you want to be that family for Seela?" 

It wasn’t the same, Sabine knew that. She’d grown to care for Vrei because of Vrei, because she was bright and stubborn and clever. 

"I’d like to try," Sabine said. "I know it wouldn’t be the same. Perhaps best to present it as a fostering agreement at first, just in case?" Numa nodded thoughtfully. 

"I’ll ask the counsellor," Numa said. "And even if it does turn out to be fostering, and helping her find another family, that will be good for her too." Sabine nodded. 

A few days later, Vrei’s parents were shown to the Wren clan’s apartments, and embraced their missing daughter, joyful tears streaming down their faces. It was bittersweet to see her go. Sabine had become incredibly fond of Vrei, and was sad to part from her. But she was equally happy to see Vrei reunited with her family. 

They stayed for a couple days, as did the other parents who had come to retrieve their lost little ones. When they were gone again, back to Ryloth, Sabine and Numa waited a few days more, quietly grieving Vrei's loss, before they brought Seela into their home. The little girl was sullen and morose, and Sabine took her weekly to appointments with the counsellor. At first, Seela spoke only Ryl, when she spoke at all. 

All of the adults in the household thankfully knew at least a smattering of Ryl among their other languages. Other than Numa and Sabine, Bodhi was best at the Twi’lek language, as he had learned it as a boy, and had been brushing up since Numa came to Manda’yaim. He was also intending to transfer from the regular starfighter corps to the branch of Cabur’e Numa worked in, and the more languages known, the better, since they dealt with the threats at the borders of Mando space. 

Hoping being around more Twi’lek might help, they took Seela to the T’ad Twi’lek’e, but she was just as withdrawn there, although sometimes Oola and Lyn could induce her to talk a little. Rather to everyone’s surprise, it was Boba who had a breakthrough with Seela a few months after Sabine and Numa took her in - he mentioned, off-handedly, that Seela reminded him of the Jedi Aayla’secura, who had fought with Boba’s brothers in the war. 

Aayla’secura, it turned out, had been a very distantly related member of Seela’s family. It perhaps wasn’t too much of a surprise, given their shared clan name and similar cool-blue colouring. What was a bit more of a surprise was that Seela nearly revered her distant kin-folk, who had not only been a Jedi, but a practitioner of the Force-traditions of Ryloth. They had never met, but Aayla was well-remembered on Ryloth.

Seela, Sabine and the others learned, had begun to train among the Sesk’nabsilai too, as her parents had before her. It was their Force-abilities that had left Seela orphaned when she was very young, as the Sesk’nabsilai were hunted down and killed by the Emperor’s henchmen, just as the Jedi had been. Her uncle had taken her in, but when it became clear that she had the Force like her parents, he had turned cold and distant, although he had at least allowed one of the few remaining Sesk’nabsilai to begin training her in secret. 

Did Seela want to return to the Sesk’nabsilai on Ryloth? Sabine asked, and Seela hesitated. Would she want them to call upon the Jedi, who had raised and trained Aayla’secura? Seela hesitated again at that. 

"Koa," Seela finally said. She pursed her mouth thoughtfully, then spoke in accented Basic. "I want to stay here. The Sesk’nabsilai did not save me. The Jedi did not save me." She looked up at Numa. "Vashna Numa’shala saved me."

"And I would be happy to claim you as my own, minari’sai," Numa promised. While this child was so very hurt, and they didn’t always know how to help her, Numa and Sabine had quickly come to care for Seela. They wanted to help her, protect and care for her. Seela looked over to Sabine, who dipped her head in silent agreement. 

"You are very dear to us, adiik," Sabine agreed. "This fostering was undertaken to be sure we could fit together as a family, if that’s what you want." Seela burst into tears at that, and Sabine froze for a moment, before kneeling and gathering her into a hug. Numa embraced them both, and Boba, Oola and Lyn gently shooed everyone else away. 

The very next day, Sabine and Numa took Seela to Krownest to meet her new grandparents, great-uncles, and assorted clan members. They also talked about contacting Kenobi, who was a fairly frequent correspondent of Boil and Waxer’s, for when Seela wanted to pursue further training with her Force abilities. The Sesk’nabsilai had taught her enough that she could keep her psyche safe, but even the minimal interaction Sabine had with the Jedi Jarrus and Bridger had convinced her that the Force was real, and constantly at work through those who could feel its currents. Sabine and Numa wanted to ensure that path remained open to Seela if she so chose. 

Within a week, Sabine and Numa’s adoption of Seela was formalized. They allowed her to choose which clan name she wished to use, Wren or Shala or Secura, and she chose to remain a Secura, as she knew of no others save her aunt and uncle with the name, and wanted it to live on. So Seela’secura of Clan Wren was named Mando’ad, and Sabine presented her with gauntlets and a headband of beskar to mark the occasion. Numa went to Ruusaan to acquire a knife, and also gave Seela the promise of lessons in how to conceal and use the weapon. From Ursa there was a new pair of boots, and from Alrich, a set of the beautiful headscarves the Mando called hodasalar.

Much of the Wren clan was in attendance to meet and celebrate Sabine’s new daughter, and Boba, Oola, and Lyn had come too. Ursa went so far as to quietly assure Lyn and Oola that if any other members of the local Twi’lek community wanted to come, they were welcome, and so the compound was nearly bursting at the seams, many in beskar’gam, but many too in more traditional Twi’lek garb, flowing robes and ornate head-wraps. Seela brimmed with excitement the whole night, until she finally wore herself out, and fell asleep leaning against Numa’s side. 

Sabine and Numa carried her up to bed and tucked her in, and then just stood there a little while, watching over her. She still curled up small when she slept, a tiny ball wrapped around the tooka plush they'd given her when she first arrived in their home. 

"Do you think it was the Force that brought us together?" Sabine had to ask. 

"The Force, the ancestors, the great Goddess," Numa said, and shrugged. "I neither know nor care. She is ours now, and none shall take her." Sabine grinned fiercely at that, leaning against Numa and hugging her. 

"Just so," Sabine agreed, and went with Numa to their bedroom.

They stayed on Krownest a week or so, although many of their clan dispersed in the days after the party. No one wanted to overwhelm Seela, or begrudge her grandparents wanting some time to bond with the child. Sabine showed Seela around the compound, making sure she knew where the important places - bedroom, freshers, kitchen, armoury - were, then let her explore at her leisure. 

Over the next few days, Seela wandered into Alrich’s studio, and watched him paint for a while. She found the pantry, and all the treats stored there, and earned a gentle scolding for eating uj’alayi until she made herself ill. Sasha was often found in the library, reading history texts, while Fenn often helped Ba’buir Ursa with clan business, or went flying with the patrols. She also once found Sasha sitting out on the chilly porch, using the massive knife Fenn had given him for their engagement to carve scraps of veshok wood, then fit them together into a puzzle box. 

"For Sab’ika," Sasha said, and held his gloved finger over the bottom of his helmet, where his mouth was hidden, to indicate it was a secret. "Her nameday is coming up in a couple months, so I figured I’d get an early start. I’m not an artist like her and your ba’buir, but I know my way around a puzzle." Seela nodded, and began thinking about what she might like to give Sabine. She’d have to talk to Numa.

* * *

After their return from Krownest, Seela settled in more, knowing she had a permanent place there with them. She still had night terrors, and she was an almost-teenager with the corresponding moodiness that entailed. But she continued seeing the counsellor regularly, and also visiting the T’ad Twi’lek’e with either or both of her guardians. They enrolled her in school, and she began taking a class on Mando traditional dance, and by the time Sabine’s nameday party was held, she could recite a few verses of a Mando warchant as her present. 

Neither Sabine nor Numa pressed Seela to call either of them Buir, or the Ryl word for mother or matriarch, _Hoay_. That would come in time, they agreed, if Seela ever felt that urge at all. But they did not want Seela to think they were trying to take the place of her first parents in her heart. 

Seela first used Hoay for Numa a few months after her adoption, sleepy after a long day of hiking on a visit to Krownest. Sabine grinned as Numa went a bit teary eyed. Slowly, Numa became Hoay to Seela all the time, not just when she was tired or stressed, and Sabine became Buir, and Sasha and Tristan and Fenn and Bodhi were Ba’vodu. She learned Mando’a and how to care for her knife, and styles of Mando art and dance, the long epics that some of the warriors could recite from memory.

A few years after they adopted Seela, who was by then approaching twelve, Seela began carefully sounding them out about her earlier decision not to pursue further training with the Force. They had taught Seela to defend herself physically, and her training with the Sesk’nabsilai was sufficient to protect her mind. But Seela knew there was more to the Force than that. At the same time, she didn’t want to leave Keldabe to go train with the new Jedi Order that had eventually settled in the old temples on Yavin IV. 

"You know," Ba’vodu Waxer said one day when Seela was visiting him and Ba’vodu Boil on Krownest, and her worries came tumbling out, "old Obi-Wan wouldn’t take you from them if you wanted to stay. It might take a little while before someone’s available, but I bet if you and your parents talked to him and Skywalker, they’d send someone to teach you some things." 

"The holonet says Jedi steal children," Seela said warily. She glanced over toward the other room, where Hoay Numa was putting together a meal of Ryloth stew, spicy and savory, the holo quietly playing Twi'lek folk music.

"The holonet is still being scrubbed of Imperial propaganda," Boil said dryly. "The Jedi never took younglings from parents who wanted to keep them." Seela thought on that for a while. 

"Then why -" Seela finally asked, and Boil snorted. "Okay, yeah, like you said, Imperial propaganda," she said with a sigh. "You really think Olma’nabsilai Kenobi will send someone?" she asked, using the Ryl term for a master of such wisdom.

Waxer and Boil both nodded. 

"The General can’t help himself," Waxer said with fond exasperation. "If he knows he can help someone, he does. That’s part of what makes him such a great Jedi, and a good man." 

Seela nodded, feeling how deeply Waxer believed that. Sabine, who had dealt with Jedi a little more, was firmly in favour of contacting them - the Force was a powerful tool, even if the Jedi spoke about it in more philosophical terms. Numa, who thought of Kenobi nearly as fondly as her uncles, seconded the recommendation. 

After all, Numa reminded Seela, if Seela didn’t like her Jedi lessons, or thought the Sesk’nabsilai way was better, they could send the Jedi away, and she could see if Cham’syndulla knew an Olma’nabsilai willing to travel to Manda’yaim. Beyond that, there was likely some sort of Force tradition associated with Mandalore itself. While they hadn’t sent their Force-sensitives to become Jedi in centuries, that didn’t mean there were no Mando Force-sensitives. If that was what she wanted, Sabine had only to speak to the Mand’alor, and something would be worked out.

At her parents recommendation, Seela thought through her options. Summoning an Olma’nabsilai from Ryloth seemed ill advised; they were so few, and would be desperately needed there to rebuild their traditions now that it was safe. She thought learning the Mando Force traditions would be interesting, but she had no knowledge of what those traditions were, and was a little hesitant to leap blindly in case they contradicted the training she already had. Her admiration of Aayla’secura helped her make her final decision, and Ba’vodu’se Boil and Waxer called the Jedi for her.

Kenobi proved Waxer true when the Ghost touched down in the public spaceport on the outskirts of Keldabe only a week later. The old Jedi had not only sent them a Jedi, but one that her parents already knew and trusted, Kanan Jarrus. With him had come his wife, the Twi’lek General Hera’syndulla, and their children, Jacen and Depa. Hera was visibly pregnant, showing why she was able to leave her duty to the Republic for the time they would be on Manda’yaim.

The Jarrus-Syndulla clan took a house in the outskirts of Keldabe, and for the next few months, Seela went there everyday after school for lessons in the Jedi tradition. They started with history, philosophy, ethics and meditation, then worked their way up to Force skills and the combat forms, starting with empty-handed Shii-cho. Sometimes, when Seela went with her parents to T’ad Twi’lek’e on weekends, they would see Hera and her children there, sitting in the singing circle or dancing in the storytelling ring. 

Kanan didn’t ever come to the T’ad Twi’lek’e, but that seemed to be in deference to Boba, who had a long and troubled history with the Jedi in general, and Kanan’s grand-master in particular. Seela’s teacher was very respectful of both Twi’lek and Mando traditions, teaching her what little he knew about the Sesk’nabsilai from the Jedi perspective, and the history of warring between the Mando and Jedi. It was good to learn such things, especially since history as he had learned it as a Padawan in the Jedi Temple was recorded with a different tone than what Seela read for class in Keldabe. Knowing both sides, Kanan taught her, was important. There were always multiple points of view, and all of them had to be taken into consideration to get the full picture.

After about a year of one on one training, Kanan told Seela she had what it took to be a Jedi, if that was what she wanted. It was an offer that spurred a great deal of soul searching for Seela, and many conversations with her parents and extended family. Eventually, she decided that while she wanted to help people, being a Cabur like her Hoay was much more in line with what she wanted, rather than the duties of a Jedi. Kanan - and the other Jedi - accepted that, and it was decided that with Hera needing to get back to work for the Republic, the Syndulla and Jarrus clan would take their leave, but Seela would go for a month each year to train with the Jedi on Yavin. 

Seela was sorry to see the Jarrus-Syndulla clan go. She had become fond of Kanan, a little in awe of Hera, and friends with their children. Jacen was only a couple years younger than her, and like her, undergoing basic training in the Jedi path, although he wasn’t sure yet if it was what he wanted to do. He was as proud of his mother’s accomplishments as his father’s, and thought being a pilot might make just as excellent a career as being a Jedi. Seela could understand that, after all, she felt more drawn to the life of a Cabur than a Jedi.

Kanan had left Seela plenty of reading to do, and she also had comm codes to contact the Jedi Temple on Yavin. They talked frequently, and as the months passed, Seela grew more confident that she had made the right decision. Every time Numa and Bodhi came home from their long missions, she hung on every word they shared of their adventures. It would be hard work, Seela knew, if she wanted to become a Cabur like them. But she wanted to help others as Hoay Numa had helped her.

* * *

In the time since Seela had been adopted, the Wren household fostered other children freed on Numa and Bodhi’s missions. The first few times, she had been jealous and territorial. But once she felt more comfortable in her place as a Wren, Numa took the opportunity of having fosterlings in the house to try and be helpful - be a protector. Sometimes that was helping the others navigate the fortress and city. Other times, they stayed long enough that she would bring them to school with her. 

The spring after she had her first year of Jedi training, one of the fosters stayed on, and became Seela’s cousin. Bodhi had brought the little Togruta home after a mission; like Seela, they were saved from a slaving ship. Also like Seela, the child spoke no Mando’a when they arrived, and little Basic. The whistling language of the Togruta was incomprehensible to the rest of the household, although there was enough of a Togruta population in Keldabe that someone was able to translate. Unfortunately, the child was too young to know much about their situation. They knew their name, Bato, and that they were four, and from the colony world of Kiros. 

Sasha’s offices handled the research in such cases, scouring missing persons announcements and tracing the previous ports where the slavers had stopped. Sometimes, unfortunately, they couldn’t find a home to return a freed being to. Kiros had been troubled by slaving raids since the Separatist War, and the town Bato likely came from had been utterly destroyed in the raid that resulted in their capture. With no home to return to, and Sasha and Fenn already attached to the little Togruta, the decision to adopt was easily made. They researched as much as they could, and then, with the blessing of Ursa as matriarch of the Wren Clan, adopted Bato as a Rau and their adiik.

The quarters they lived in were beyond cramped at that point, and so Sasha, Fenn, Bodhi, Tristan, and Bato moved out. Bodhi and Tristan took an apartment in the city, but Sasha, Fenn, and Bato remained in the fortress, just in an apartment of their own. Seela and Bato were constantly back and forth between the two flats, and their ba'vodu'se Tristan and Bodhi were at one or the other more often than not. They were all back to Krownest with some frequency too, or over to Concord Dawn and the T’ad Twi’lek’e, although Numa, Sabine and Seela went there more than the rest of the family. Over the years, Numa had become good friends with Oola and Lyn, and Seela began to think of them as ba’vodu’se too. Fenn and Sasha found a similar cultural center for Togruta Mando'ade so that Bato could grow up knowing those traditions as well. 

With so many of the clan living in close proximity, and the careful planning Sabine and Numa did, Seela always had a trusted adult at hand if she needed them. Numa still took frequent trips off world for her work, as did Bodhi, and Sabine and Sasha also traveled, if less frequently. But there was always someone there to make sure Seela and Bato were well fed, tucked into bed, and safely conveyed to and from school and other activities. They had plenty of unstructured play time too, and there were other children living in the fortress for them to run and play with.

* * *

When Sabine went back to Nevarro, Seela didn't even know the importance of the trip until later. While not large numbers wise, Nevarro was one of the first coverts brought to the Mand'alor's attention. So when Sen Adenn, the goran in charge of the forge at the center of the hidden community reached out to the Mand'alor, Bo-Katan sent her most trusted emissary. 

Sabine, Sasha, and Bodhi made the trip to Nevarro at Sen's invitation. Some of the old members of the covert, dispersed years before during the trouble with the bountyhunters' guild and Moff Gideon, had returned. Sen wanted them to be given the same news they had been when Gideon was brought to trial - that the Mand'alor was calling the exiled clans home. Like Sen, most of the others had been raised to a slightly different set of values than the Resol'nare. But they thought of themselves as Mandalorians, and while Sen had had the opportunity to acquire educational materials to learn more about their homeland, not all the others had. 

Stepping into the forge a second time, Sabine smiled. Sen stood before the lit forge, hammer and tongs at their belt, the attention of the entire gathered group on them. Sabine dipped her head. 

"Su cuy'gar, goran," Sabine greeted. 

"Su cuy'gar," Sen returned, and a few of the others shifted. 

"Children of Mandalore," Sabine greeted the others. 

Skirting around the gathered warriors, Sabine stood by Sen. In the years since she had first been to Nevarro, Sabine had altered her beskar'gam, and now wore a long leather and beskar coat of plates, plus chestplate, pauldrons, greaves, and buy'ce. Elbow length leather gloves, quilted for heat protection, covered her hands and forearms. She still wore her favourite blasters holstered on her thighs, but she had set aside her jetpack, and wore her own hammer and tongs on her belt, visibly declaring herself goran rather than verd. 

"I am Sabine Wren," she introduced herself, "one of the armourers serving the Mand'alor, the leader of our people. Until your action against the bounty hunters guild here some years ago, the Mand'alor was not aware of this covert, nor of the covert system through which you have preserved our culture in the wake of the Empire's purges. Now that you have returned to the covert, I am sent by the Mand'alor to tell you with so many of our people were lost in the purges, she would welcome home those who wander."

Sabine glanced over them. Fifteen Mando'ade, all in fairly standard beskar'gam. Likely they were all human or near-human, as most Mando'ade were any more. 

"Not all of your ways are our ways. Not all of our ways are your ways. But you are children of Mandalore nonetheless, and Mandalore welcomes their children home. My brothers and I will be here for the next week if you wish to speak with us," Sabine said.

"Our way - the covert - this has been enough for us. Why should we follow someone who's never cared about us before?" one of the covert Mando demanded. Sabine couldn't tell who. 

"You don't have to," Sabine said with a shrug. "I won't deny that the Mando'ade could use some new blood, especially on the main planet in the system, but if you don't want to be there, we don't want you there. No one is going to say you aren't Mando enough just because you don't come visit. This is an invitation, not a conscription." 

Sabine didn't go for a hard sell; as she told the gathered Mando'ade, this wasn't a conscription. She was there to present the option to them, not sell them anything. A few were interested, she thought, from the way they leaned in a bit, let their visors follow her when she shifted slightly. 

"Your armourer knows how to get in touch with me," Sabine said in closing, and then headed for the door. 

"That's it?" One of the covert Mando'ade called a bit incredulously. 

"Do you have a question?" Sabine asked in return, turning back with her hands on her hips, conveniently near her hammer and tongs. 

"Is there work?" Someone asked. Sabine laughed.

"Yeah, there's work, all types," Sabine promised. "My spouse hunts slavers, my brother's spouse flies patrols, I forge armour, one of my parents is an artist and the other makes sure everyone in our clan has a place to rest their head and enough food to eat and fuel for the fighters. There's cantinas that need cooks and bouncers, and farmers that need field hands and fisherfolk who need nets mended. Any work you feel like setting your hand to, we could use a few pairs of hands. And if hunting bounty is what you want to do - you're welcome to do that too. In-system law enforcement is all on a bounty system. You fuck up, someone will bring you in. You really fuck up, they'll bring you in cold." 

That garnered a bit more interest, and after that, questions were being shouted one over the other. Sabine let them clamour for a bit, just standing and waiting. After a few moments, they figured out she wouldn't answer until they behaved a bit more politely, and quieted down. She waited a moment longer, and one of them called out:

"What are the laws?" 

"No murder, no theft, no rape. You start trouble, be ready to have a whole clan after you. You murder someone, the Protectors will kill you. You murder someone's kid, they'll let the parents kill you. You rape, you're dead, just a matter of who kills you first. You steal, you probably won't want to stick around for the beatdown you just earned, but they might not kill you," Sabine said firmly. It was a bit more nuanced than that of course, but those were the basics. 

Other questions followed, but at least they were one at a time. Sabine answered until her throat went hoarse, then held up her hand for a pause. She signed over to Sasha, and he pulled a pouch of water from one of his pockets and lobbed it over. Sabine nodded her thanks, then pulled down her siphon and slotted the end into the pouch and drained it. They waited with surprising patience for her to finish, then fold away the emptied pouch for recycling before inundating her with more questions. 

Sabine answered questions for hours, until Sasha caught her eye, then quickly signed that Bodhi had their evening meal waiting back at the ship. Beneath her helmet, Sabine grinned. Of the three of them who had come to speak on the behalf of the Mand'alor, Bodhi was definitely the best cook. He deftly fused Mando and Jedhan cuisines, whereas Sabine and Sasha could do campfire cooking at best, but likely would have just picked up take out if left to their own devices. 

Finishing her answer, Sabine held her hands up for quiet. "It's time for late meal," she said, leaving no room for further questions. "My brother and I will return tomorrow to answer more of your questions." There was a little grumbling, but no one tried to stop her and Sasha from leaving. They navigated carefully through the tunnels, and slipped above ground in the back room of the cantina the bountyhunter's guild used as their headquarters. Cara was sitting near the disguised hatch, idly maintaining her weapon. 

"All good?" Cara asked, and Sabine nodded. 

"All good," Sabine said. "See you in the morning." Cara nodded, and Sabine and Sasha walked back out to the landing field. By the time they reached Sabine's kom'rk, Bodhi had the ramp lowered, and Sabine was quite happy to get inside, activate the locks, then pull off her helmet. Sen had advised them to remain fully covered in the covert, and Sabine had accepted that with grace - it was always a good idea to follow the local customs, so long as they didn't cross any of their own moral boundaries.

"So, good meeting?" Bodhi asked, handing Sabine and Sasha hot mugs of shig. 

" _Long_ meeting," Sabine groused. "Tomorrow is Sasha's turn to talk."

"You're the one who wanted to go first," Sasha reminded without looking up from his datapad, which he'd hooked into his comm so he could type a message - likely to Fenn and Bato. Sabine rolled her eyes and downed her shig, then tapped out a message of her own to Numa and Seela, and another to the Mand'alor. Numa and Fenn would ensure their messages were passed through the clan back home. 

"Food first, then fighting," Bodhi suggested, and Sabine clapped him on the shoulder in thanks. 

"You said it was ready, but is there anything we can do to help?" Sasha offered. Bodhi looked at Sasha skeptically. 

"You? Not much. Why don't you get the bowls and set the table," Bodhi suggested, and Sasha laughed, but obliged. Soon, each of them had a healthy helping of steamed neral stir-fried with spicy nerf and vegetables, and warm shuner on the side. Bodhi set the big pot of shig in the center of the table, and they dug in. 

Sabine and Sasha told Bodhi about their meeting with the covert Mando'a, and passed along Cara's greetings. They hadn't seen Din, but it was likely he was off hunting bounties. Sasha and Sabine cleaned up when they were done, and the three of them played a few rounds of sabacc and chatted until they decided to call it a night. 

Not long after she laid down in bed, Sabine's comm chirped. She groaned, and picked it up, then smiled when she saw it was Numa calling. 

"Su'cuy," Sabine greeted fondly. 

"Su'cuy," Numa returned. "Seela ru'copaanir sirbur jate ca." Sabine's grin widened at that. 

"Su'cuy Seela," Sabine said.

"Su'cuy Sa'buir!" Seela said. "Jate ca! Jate vercope!"

"Jate ca, Seela, jate vercope," Sabine returned. "Ni kar'taylir darasuum." She smiled again. They talked a little, Seela reporting on her lessons at school, and her ongoing practicing of her Force skills. Sabine and Numa managed to speak a little as well, but despite being earlier on Manda'yaim than it was on Nevarro, Numa soon needed to put Seela to bed. "Ven'haa'taylir gar," Sabine said, "ret'urcye mhi."

"Ret," Numa and Seela said almost in unison, and then the connection closed. Sabine sighed, missing them. She debated for a moment, then shuffled out of her berth and went to bunk with Sasha. He laughed softly when she let herself in, but didn't tease, just patted the bunk at his side, his prosthetic already removed for the night.

* * *

As promised, Sabine and Sasha returned to the covert in the morning. Sasha answered the bulk of the questions, although there were a few things he had to turn over to Sabine. At midday, Cara brought down a meal, and Sabine again noted the ease with which the dropper and the goran interacted. She also noted that Cara was wearing more armour - nearly a full beskar'gam. Sen, Sabine knew, would by now understand what that conveyed to a Mando traditionalist like Sabine and her clan. She wondered if the tradition was the same for the covert Mando, whether the others recognized Cara as the goran's spouse, or nearly so. They clearly didn't find it too unusual for her to be coming and going from the forge.

The questioning didn't last quite as long that second day, and to their surprise, Sasha and Sabine were taken on a more in depth tour through the covert, allowed to see the living spaces where the Mando'ade of Nevarro made their homes. A couple trusted them enough to introduce their children. These, Sabine anticipated, would be the ones seriously considering the offer to relocate to Manda'yaim. 

Towards the end of the day, Sabine and Sasha found themselves led into a large subterranean space with high vaulted ceilings. It had likely once been a cistern or sewage stilling pool, but that use had long ago ceased, and now it functioned as the training hall of the covert Mando. Battered training droids were lined up against one wall, and there were racks of melee weapons and training armour. 

Sabine glanced at Sasha, and found, to no great surprise, he was already looking at her, head tilted in question. "Wanna go?" Sabine signed quickly, just to be sure. 

"No hammer, no tongs," Sasha signed back. "Break staff." Sabine snorted, glancing at the weapons rack. 

"No hammer, no tongs, no staff, no knives," Sabine signed back. "Fake weapons only." Sasha nodded, and Sabine looked at their guide, who had paused to watch them sign. 

"All set?" their guide asked.

"We're good, just wondering if we can get in a spar, we've been cooped up on the ship for a while now," Sabine said. Their guide shrugged. 

"Don't see why not," they said. Sabine grinned, then unbuckled her belt and set down her hammer and tongs, then, just to be sure she didn't reach for them out of habit, she started pulling off her knives. It took a while - there were the short knives in her vambraces, the big Concord Dawn knife Fenn had given her for her and Numa's anniversary, her boot knives, her belt knife, her throwing knives, the ones she wore in her thigh holsters. Sasha was just as bad.

Finally they were more or less disarmed. Sabine went to the weaponry rack and selected a pair of batons. Sasha reached past her and unsurprisingly chose a staff. Sabine clicked her vambrace against his, then loped over to the center of the open area. She stood ready, weight forward, batons held loose at her sides. Sasha paused a moment, staff still behind him, then began to stalk forward, whirling the staff into motion. 

As Sasha approached, Sabine waited a breath, then bounded forward. She took a few long strides, then just launched herself bodily. She knew she wouldn't land a hit on the first attack, but with Sasha the best bet was to get inside his reach. She didn't always manage it, but that was part of what made fighting him so much fun still, even after all these years. They knew one another's styles, knew how to attack and defend without seriously harming one another. And they always challenged one another. 

They came together with a solid crash, Sabine twisting under Sasha's mass and trying to get close to his center. He thwarted her, blocking with the staff, and Sabine whirled away before he could turn that block into a hit. They threw themselves at one another for a few more minutes, blocking and ducking as needed. Both of them had excellent stamina, but the longer they went like this, melee weapons only, the more Sasha's advantage of strength came into play. 

Sasha forced Sabine to the ground, and she knew she could probably free herself, but she felt better enough that she wasn't too upset about taking the loss. Sabine tapped out, and Sasha hauled her to her feet, then pulled her into a loose hug. She hugged him back, tapping their helmets together in appreciation.

"Jate?" Sasha asked.

"Jate," Sabine said, reaching up and rapping her knuckles against the side of his helmet.

"Damn, and here I thought you were just pissed off when you went after Gideon," Cara called from the periphery of the room. 

"Oh, I was," Sasha said. Sabine fought the urge to shake her head. Sasha's confidence had taken a bit of a hit when they were just starting out as Fulcrum agents, but he'd regained all his self-assurance years ago. 

"Cocky, aren't you?" One of the Mandos asked, and Sasha shrugged nonchalantly. Sabine fought not to sigh. There was always someone who took Sasha's attitude as an invitation to needle him. 

"No, just that good," Sasha said, and Sabine did sigh then. Her brother took a great deal of pleasure in smacking down people who started in on him. Sabine retreated to where Cara stood. 

"Should we separate them?" Cara asked quietly as the Mando stepped forward. They were of a similar build to Sasha, and wore similar heavy-style armour. 

"Nah, let them get it out of their systems," Sabine recommended. "Sasha won't hurt 'm too badly. Dominance displays piss him off, but he won't get gratuitous unless he's pushed." Cara snorted at that. 

A terrific clang sounded, and Sabine looked back in time to see Sasha rising out of a crouch, the other Mando already flat on their back before Sasha's staff finished its sweeping motion. At her side, Cara let out a whistle of appreciation. 

"Damn, I knew he was good, but I wasn't paying that close attention when we went after Gideon," Cara admitted. 

"Anyone else?" Sasha called, helmet tilted up in challenge, posture sure and ready. Wisely, no one else stepped forward for a thrashing after seeing how easily Sasha had dumped the first of their brethren on their ass. Sasha waited a moment longer, then nodded, looking to Cara. 

"Come on Rau, my boss is feeding you tonight," Cara said. Sasha nodded, and he and Sabine followed Cara back up to the cantina. Bodhi was waiting in the back room with access to the hidden ways, meditation beads slipping through his fingers _click click click_ while he read something off his datapad. Poetry, most likely, Sabine thought. He and Fenn could talk poetry for hours at a time. 

As Cara promised, Sabine, Sasha and Bodhi ate on Greef's credits that night. It was a good meal, accompanied by plentiful alcohol. They didn't drink to excess, but it was nice to relax a little in a private room at the cantina. 

They stayed on a few days more, talking with the covert Mando'ade. When they left, they transported half a dozen potential new citizens back to Keldabe with them. They were only home for a few weeks before Sabine, Sasha, and Bodhi were off again, backtracking through the network of coverts their new transplants had entrusted to them. As neither Sabine nor Sasha wanted to be away from their spouses and children for extended periods, they would generally visit only one covert per trip, although sometimes they made quick return trips to previously visited coverts on the same journey.

Sometimes their visit would generate interest. Other times, the covert Mando'ade were satisfied with their current way of life. The hardest to encourage to relocate were the goran'e, although Sabine could understand that. Most of them saw themselves as the cornerstones of their communities, and they weren't entirely wrong. Only one goran was willing to return to Mando space, and only because the entire rest of the covert on that out of the way world wished to go to Manda'yaim. They would relocate as a clan, to Keldabe first, then finding a stronghold where they could settle together. 

Because of Sabine's part in bringing the covert Mando'ade to Manda'yaim, she found herself also introducing them to the integration program, and serving as an unofficial mentor. When she was off world to bring the message of homecoming to other farflung coverts, her clan in Keldabe stood in for her, to varying degrees.

* * *

A year or so after she'd begun making trips to the coverts, Sabine stood on the balcony of the family compound on Krownest, watching Seela spar with Jacen'syndulla. They had training lightsabers, and wore Mando training armour. Her mother stood on one side of her, Sasha on the other. She could hear Fenn on Sasha's other side, talking softly to Bato, explaining about the Jedi and the Mando, and their long history. On the training ground below, Kanan supervised, and Din stood beside him, his big-eyed foundling watching the Jedi with obvious interest. 

"I never would have imagined this," Ursa said quietly. "When we sent you to the academy - it was a matter of survival. I knew that Clan Wren couldn't stand alone against the Empire. And we had been loyal to Death Watch, what little good it did us. Somehow - somehow you went into the enemy's camp and stole so much of their strength."

"I didn't do it alone," Sabine said, and Ursa laughed softly. 

"No, I know that. But that ability to make allies - to make _family_ \- that is a strength in itself. You brought home a brother, and another, and another, until our clan was strong enough to to stand clear of Death Watch, strong enough to be the bulwark of the Mand'alor."

"I never would have imagined this either," Sabine admitted. "But our numbers have always been our strength." She looked to where Numa stood below, watching their daughter and talking with Hera'syndulla. They'd been discussing taking in another foundling, and she knew Fenn and Sasha wanted siblings for Bato too. Their clan was strong and growing. The Empire was defeated. 

Sabine didn't think life would suddenly get easy. But it felt full. It felt right - yaim'la. She smiled, and covered her mother's hand with her own. For the Mando, family had always meant more than blood. It was togetherness, bonds of choice, strengthened through work and commonly held beliefs. Here, her family was gathered, heads unbowed, masters at last of their own fates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a:**  
>  Adiik = child aged 3 to 13  
> Ba'buir = grandparent  
> Ba'vodu('se) = Aunt(s) or Uncle(s)  
> Bintar = both  
> Birikad = baby carrying harness  
> Buir = parent  
> Jate vercope = good dreams  
> Kaysh nu ven'shupuur tug’yc = He will not injure (me) again  
> Kaysh vod bal kaysh goran = His sibling and his blacksmith  
> K'oyaci = 1. Cheers! 2. Can also mean: Hang in there or 3. Come back safely. Literally, a command; Stay alive!  
> Meg ven’riduurok gar = which will marry you  
> N'ade = no children  
> Nasaad. Cuy'gar ogir'olar = None. It's neither here nor there. It's irrelevant.  
> Neral = grain  
> Ne’suvarir Mando’a ne Basic = (they) don't understand Mando'a or Basic  
> Ni jahaala = I (am) well  
> Ni kar'taylir = I know  
> Ni kar'taylir darasuum = I love you  
> Ret'urcye mhi = Goodbye - lit. Maybe we'll meet again  
> Ru'copaanir sirbur jate ca = wanted to say goodnight  
> Shi Ryl = only Ryl  
> Shuner = bread  
> Su'cuy = hi  
> Su cuy'gar = hello (lit. you're still alive)  
> Su cuy'gar burc'ya = Hello friend  
> T'ad Twi'lek'e = Two Twi'leks  
> Tion'ad gar ganar olar = who you have here?  
> Uj'alayi = uj cake - dense, very sweet flat cake made of ground nuts, syrup, pureed dried fruit and spice  
> Val gaanader = their choice  
> Ven'haa'taylir gar = (I) will see you  
> Yaim'la = comfortable, familiar, sense of *at home*. Can also mean local to the speaker.
> 
> **Ryl:**  
>  Ash eskaa'lia = she (is) my love  
> Fendoon = welcome (to)  
> Hoay = Indicates an individual who is the female head of a clan or a house; the mother or matriarch  
> Kei'nata tun = Used as a greeting or even in departure, literally means “respect to you”. A traditional gesture between Twi’leks that was a way of recognizing seniority and showing respect. Anyone may initiate the greeting by extending their hands out palms facing towards one another with a space between. The next person either puts their hands between, their own palms touching, or on the outside of the other’s hands to show a greater position of respect.  
> Koa = no  
> Minari'sai = Youth not yet an adult (female)  
> Olma'nabsilai = A term referring to a master, or leader, in the order of the Sesk’nabsilai. Literally, one who carries the weight of the world for the Goddess. Derived from the name of the Twi’lek Jedi master who turned down a seat on the Jedi Council to found the order — well over a thousand years ago, Olma’fa  
> Sesk’nabsilai = An ancient order of Force-sensitive Twi’leks who serve the temples as guardians, sentinels, and political representatives. Because their duties sometimes stretch beyond the teachings of Kika’lekki, they are thought to carry a great and terrible burden. Their abilities and talents run parallel to the Jedi, and as a consequence, they suffered a similar purge by the Sith when Chancellor Palpatine became Emperor. The survivors, like those of the Jedi, became highly secretive yet continue to perform their duties and train new members as best they can

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr, pillowfort, and dreamwidth under the same username, feel free to come say hi!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[fanmix] know your history](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934085) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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